Conviction
by moviemaniac12
Summary: As her totem finally lies untouched, a familiar Point Man on her doorstep pulls Ariadne back into the world of dreams with the promising appeal of another job. POST-Inception.
1. Chapter 1 Prolouge

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

* * *

_Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream? - Edgar Allen Poe._

* * *

Ariadne stood awkwardly by the luggage claim, silently shifting from foot to foot.

Dominic Cobb had finally found a way to return to his children and made it through the border, as Saito had promised. Ariadne couldn't help but feel some sense of pride from helping a desperate man get back to reality. There were no soppy goodbyes at the airport, not that she expected any. All she recieved from the Extractor was a quick glance, absent from any emotion. Ever professional. Eames however, snuck her a quick wink and made his way back to connecting flights, no doubt to run off to the nearest exotic location to spend his earnings. Even Yusuf (who Ariadne found to be refreshingly intimidated) gave her a small smile.

She was surprised -and a little disappointed- not to recieve a look from the familiar Point Man. Not a wink, not a smile, not even a second of eye contact. Even when she walked over to collect her luggage, she turned to see him standing beside her. She suddenly could not shake his presence from beside her (she even found his sent familiar, the smell of expensive cologne and fine leather). She blinked then quickly turned again, feeling a slight redness creep up her cheeks as she remembered the dream.

_Quick, give me a kiss._

His lips were soft, and the kiss was quick, but it was by far the most memorable of her previous kisses. Boys from school, _adolesent_ boys who had no idea how to act around girls. Arthur...he was on a completely different level. He was a _man._ Mysterious, professional, suave...and far too attractive for his own good. Just standing in the same room as him made her feel funny.

She swallowed and reached towards her black case, something she'd bought as soon as she learnt she would be going under. There was no way in hell she was bringing her large blue one from when she was 18. Only a pair of quick hands stopped her. She watched as Arthur quickly pulled the case off for her and place it gently by her feet. She looked around to thank him, only he was already swiftly walking away. Even his _walk_ was a reflection of Arthur. Well paced- long strides, only used by a person who knew where they were going.

She stood in silence for a few moments, expecting him to turn around and give her a quick glance. But nothing happened. She was only left watching as the black of his perfectly pressed suit disappeared into the crowd. She felt slightly dejected from not being able to see his face one last time.

She didn't feel upset. Why would she? Afterall, they were only co-workers. Co-workers that occasionally kissed. She quickly shook those thoughts from her brain, knowing that as much as she may _want_ something to happen, that was only a distant want. A childish need. Something only a woman can feel when she's been stuck with a group of attractive men for weeks on end. But she could have sworn that she caught him looking at her a few times during work...and that kiss couldn't have been for nothing.

_Stop it,_ her mind bit at her. She knew that if he even felt something for her, he wouldn't have just walked away.

And then, she was alone, gripping her totem tightly in her jean pocket, no doubt piercing her skin.

She didn't really know what to think then. Should she lay low in LA, or go straight back to Paris? When would she get her money? Even then, should she spend it, or would that raise suspicion? Questions buzzed around her head like parasites, and she suddenly felt angry. Why did they leave her like this? With no information or idea of what to do next? She would have liked just a quick word of advice. She wasn't expecting a babysitter, but some guidance would be nice. She could only guess that maybe that's the way it was in this buisness.

As she turned her head, she caught a look at the man she had been studying. Robert Fischer. She felt her legs to to jelly as she remembered where she'd just been. She leaned against the nearest barrier and was sure to take a minute to breath. They'd done it. They'd completed the impossible. She didn't really know how to feel about herself. After all, they'd just created an idea in a strangers mind that would completely alter his life.

Ariadne began to wonder whether she would see the others again.

She'd begun to feel some sense of comradeship with the men she'd spent the past month and a half working with, and was now left with a strange feeling of sadness. After all, it is almost impossible to spend weeks in a secluded warehouse with a group of people, and not develop anything.

After deciding that she looked possibly quite the biggest weirdo standing in the middle of baggage claim with a strange look on her face. Quickly brushing her hair behind her ear, she rolled her case toward the nearest coffee shop. She needed caffeine after that ordeal. Before leaving the area completely, she turned once more to look over her shoulder. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps to possibly catch a glance at one of her disappearing teammates? Or more likely, maybe she just wanted to look at the crowded mass of people behind her.

She found it odd (and admittedly, a little frightening) that this was one of the first places she'd been in a while that was not a design from her sketchpad. This was not a dreamscape. It was very much reality.

As she turned away, she couldn't bring herself to loosen her pry on the golden bishop in her pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thank you very very much for all the positive feedback regarding this story so far. The next chapter just may contain a certain...rather good looking Point Man. *Shifty eyes***

**Anyway, quick notice. I am currently in the process of finishing a chapter of Can't Be Dreamers, and kind-of-almost-nearly started writing a new chapter of Sweet Dreams, but...well, to put it bluntly, writer's block is a complete and utter bitch.**

**Anyway, review and enjoy!**

* * *

6 Months Later

"Congratulations, Ariadne," Professor Miles smiled from his desk. "I have to say, I felt rather proud watching the ceremony."

"Thanks, Professor," Ariadne beamed. "I'm glad I've done you proud."

"You certainly have."

She couldn't help but feel like she reached a landmark when she managed to graduate with honours, and had completely finished her studies on post-18th century Architecture, a newly found passion.

He began organising the papers on his desk into neat piles, a habit that Ariadne had noticed since she'd started his class.

He was certainly her favourite professor. Always enthusastic about her work, and about architecture in general. She appreciated having someone to talk to about those kind of things.

The past 6 months had been...interesting for her. Cobb had constantly warned her about losing her reality, but she found that she eventually grew strong in keeping things in check. At first, she was tipping her totem at every chance she got, but now, it sat happily atop her kitchen counter, more like a kitchen decoration as opposed to something far more important. Her classwork was mixed, and she often drew things that wouldn't, _couldn't_ have a place in reality. But Professor Miles had sympathised with her and cut her some much-needed slack when her grades dropped slightly.

But she grew comfortable with it. She eventually realised that the team wouldn't come pounding through the door and whisk her away on another dangerous adventure. She realised that she wouldn't see Cobb's icy stare, or hear Eames sarcastic British humour. She _forced_ herself to realise that she wouldn't see Arthur again, and she constantly told herself that there was no point in dreaming about it, because it would only disappoint her in the long run. So she stopping thinking about it. She focused on her classwork, on keeping her apartment clean and making sure the rent was fully paid every month...the regular things.

The _normal_ things.

Professor Miles cleared his throat and pushed back the bridge of his glasses. "Well, what's next for you?"

She shrugged slightly. "Not sure. I've had a few job offers at some firms, but I haven't had the chance to look them over."

"I'm not surprised. You truly are my best and brightest, Ariadne. I expect to see great things from you." He smiled and offered his hand out.

"Thank you," she said, shaking his hand in return.

"And you know..." She watched as his smile faded and grew into a serious stare. "I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble in the past year. I know how enticing something like dream-sharing can be, and I'd hate to be responsible for the confusion of one of my best students," he said cautiously.

Her brow furrowed. "Professor Miles. You haven't caused any trouble. I mean, I had the chance to design impossible things. An Architect's dream, right?"

"Hmm." He sighed. "I'm just glad you didn't lose yourself. Not only that, but you help Cobb from losing himself as well."

She swallowed, unnerved at the mention of her teammate. "Oh...how is he?"

"Fine, just fine. I think he's finally made peace with himself. Got himself a regular job and everything."

"I'm glad." She came to the conclusion that she would dare not ask about the Point Man.

They stood in silence for a few moments before she cleared her throat and smiled again. "Well, I should be going. Thanks again, Professor."

"_Miles_, my dear girl. I'm no longer your Professor."

"Oh, right." She turned and began walking up the stairs, only turning to over him a small wave. "Thanks again. I hope I see you again, soon."

"Good luck, and- Ariadne?"

She turned again just as she pushed the door open, to see Miles giving her a gentle smile.

"I wouldn't have recommended anyone else for the job."

She swallowed. "...Thank you, Sir."

* * *

Ariadne couldn't help but feel abnormally cold that day. She shivered as she pulled her thick coat tightly around herself.

She rarely got upset by their absence nowadays. At first, she kept on taking double takes at strange men in the streets, absorbed by the delusion that they might be visiting her. Even the flash of perfectly tailored suits set her on edge. But, she stopped doing that when she realised she looked quite the freak staring at men with wide eyes from across the street. She really didn't want to be dealing with restraining orders.

It took her a while to accept the idea that it was just a one time thing. Perhaps it was better that way. A one time fling with the impossible.

She did occasionally wonder whether she could find herself a job in extraction, but she wouldn't know where to start. She figured she got lucky. After all, who else would hire a college student with a fresh degree to take part in corporate espoinage? She'd thought about asking Professor Miles, but she'd feel silly asking him for such an outragous thing.

_Oh, hey Professor, here's my essay on Leandro Marconi__. By the way, do you know any criminals engaging in illegal dream-sharing activity that I could have the number of?_

No, that was out of the question.

But, always trying to reason herself out of things, Ariadne often questioned herself about why she would want to do it again. They'd completely abandoned her at finishing point, pushed her head-first into the confusing world of dream-sharing, and caused her nothing but trouble. Her grades had slipped, her reality had been questioned, she'd had nightmares. Oh, the nightmares. That was the worst. They came to her quickly and agressively, and of the most realistic state. Nobody had warned her about that. She'd stopped sleeping altogether at one point, until eventually, she stopped dreaming naturally.

She decided that the only way to deal with it was to rid all evidence of the inception from her life completely. She'd burned her dreamscape plans and sketches, stopped using her totem and forced herself to stop thinking of the team. Eventually, it helped, she she slowly began to return to the normality that her life used to be.

They probably already forgot about her anyway.

But despite everything, she was rather impressed with herself. Pretty 'chuffed' that they finished the job, as Eames would say. The first time she heard Robert Fischer's announcement to split his father's empire on the news, she couldn't help but feel a wave of accomplishment. Then she cleaned her floor of the broken glass that she dropped.

Crossing the road, Ariadne remembered that she must visit her favourite scarf store as a self-graduation present. She continued to walk until she reached her location. A small coffee shop on the edge of the corner. Admittedly, she had visited her fair share of cafe's whilst expecting the entire street to self combust into a million pieces.

She walked in and quickly felt warmer under the heating vent. She shrugged off her coat as she scanned the room for the familiar face she was looking for.

"Elise!" she waved.

Her friend, Elise, turned and smiled. "Ari!"

Ariadne couldn't for the life of her figure out why she and Elise were friends. They were polar opposites. Elise was one of those very glamourous types who always had the first and last bitch on everybody. She dropped out of the college to become a _writer_ -Ariadne always laughed at this- when in fact, nobody had ever really seen her at a typewriter. Ariadne knew her type very clearly. She knew that Elise was the type of girl that would wake up in a bed one morning with the type of guy like...Eames.

Ariadne pulled out the opposing chair and greeted her friend. "How are you?"

Elise smiled and batted her black-tainted lashes. "I'm great! What about you, post-grad? Feeling the freedom, yet?"

Ariadne nodded, whilst running her fingers over the fabric of her scarf. She picked a red one today. "Most certainly feeling the freedom."

"Job offers, yet?"

"Yeah, a few. But I'm still weighing my options."

Elise's eyes locked with Ariadne's. "So...you'll now have a lot of free time?"

"...Yeah, I guess."

"Perfect. Now, I have a proposition for you..."

"Oh god..."

Elise smiled a sly grin, a grin that Ariadne knew far too well. "...How would you like to meet my friend?"

Ariadne blinked. "Um..."

"**He's** wonderfully mature-"

_Ah, here we go. 2 minutes and 6 seconds is her personal best._

Ariadne quickly shook her head. "No, Elise. Seriously, not again," she insisted.

Elise rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Oh _please_, Ari. It's awfully embarrassing having a friend who's been single since high school."

"Oh, my sympathy is over-whelming," Ariadne muttered. "No, Elise, I mean it. I don't want anything like that at the moment."

"You really are a bore, you know that?" Elise uttered under her breath. "I mean, what were you planning on doing after you graduated?" She threw her hands in the air like some out-of-whack italian.

Ariadne shrugged at this. "I don't know. Maybe...travel for a while?"

"How could you possibly do that? The only people you know live here, and you barely have enough money as it is."

Was that satisfaction Ariadne felt? Oh yes, it was. At least she could take some sense of comfort in the fact that the rest of her Fischer job payment was sitting comfortably in her bank account.

"I think I'll get by," she said in retort.

"Why don't you want to meet any of my friends?" Elise asked, sounding the slightest bit offended by Ariadne's rejection.

"Because...I..." Ariadne thought about her answer carefully. "...I have high standards."

Of course by high standards, she meant that the boy, no, _man_ in question must be at least 5''9, have black hair that **must** be kept in place at all times, suits that are no doubt custom-tailored, and must have a certain allure that only very mysterious and professional men carry at all times...and it helps if the guy doesn't have a last name...and owns a shit load of ties.

"Ah, whatever, Ari," Elise sighed. "If you're happy being alone, then that's fine by me."

"I'm not alone," Ariadne defended, feeling slight dejection at the accusation.

"Oh, really?" Elise leaned forward across the table. "Who was the last person you hung out with, before me?"

Somehow, Ariadne didn't think that mention Professor Miles name would help her win the situation. Or her landlady, no matter how cool she thought Mrs Malrose was for a 62 year old.

"Um..."

"Set, game and match, Ari." Elise looked at her watch and sighed heavily. "I have to go, but listen, if you change your mind, call me. Ok?"

"Ok," Ariadne sighed, feeling deflated.

"Cool. I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Elise."

Ariadne watched the back of her friend's absurdly white coat disappear out of the shop.

Of course she had friends. But Ariadne never found the other students to be particularly interesting, and she didn't get honours for partying out all night. Ariadne was one of those people who wanted to know _interesting_ people, one of the main reasons she decided to get a degree in Paris. Unfortunately, the most interesting people she had on her list at the moment, was an Extractor, a Forger, a Chemist and a Point Man.

Feeling too restless to sit and have a drink, Ariadne stood up and left the cafe, deciding to take the long way home.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thanks eternally for reviews. **

* * *

Ariadne couldn't help but feel relieved when she walked through the front door of her apartment. It's her sanctuary in a busy city, somewhere where she can retire happily at the end of the day.

She took great pride when she first bought it, choosing the right décor to suit her tastes. It'd taken her weeks to choose the right wallpaper -cream, with grey and silver elaborate patterns- that had satisfied her somewhat garnish decorative tastes, at the same time not distracting (and blinding) her. The only place that she slacked on slightly was the kitchen, but frankly she never raved about her cooking skills (or lack of). But now, she was still proud of it. It was her first mission in Paris, to create somewhere that would be a comforting home, a mission she took great pride in finishing. She had no interest in getting a roommate. She was perfectly content to live with herself.

She really had no post-graduation plans, but truthfully, she really wasn't one for large parties and celebrations. She wasn't one of those people that had spent the entire time at school socialising. She'd worked as hard as she could to get that degree, and now, she knew a few people that she could rub it in their noses. Ariadne liked to think that she was good at what she did, and she had to admit, she was proud she'd been picked out of the odd hundreds of kids in the college to work with Cobb.

Now that she had nothing to do, no studying, no assignments that needed to be handed in, she felt a slight tinge of boredom. She sighed heavily to herself and went to her bedroom, deciding to change into something more suited for home lounging.

In no particular rush, she changed into a pair of worn sweatpants and dated t-shirt (the latter covered in small splotches of paint) before sweeping her hair up into a painfully knotty ponytail. She then decided that she would sketch. But not just any sketch, no, today, she would treat herself in an indulgence of paradoxical architecture.

Ariadne remembered for the first few weeks after the inception, she became close to obsession when drawing impossible structures. Her classwork mainly consisted of hotel drawings, closed loops, penrose steps, crumbling buildings, anything that reminded her of the job. Miles asked her if she wanted him to call Cobb, but she quickly refused, promising that she would base her studies closer to reality. Being a person who kept their word, soon her sketches and plans were filled with more realistic structures.

That didn't stop her from having the occasional dreamscape splurge when she was home.

Excited and somewhat craving a chance to draw her beloved penrose steps, she half walked, half skipped to her desk, grabbing her sketchpad and the nearest pencil. She flicked open the book before collapsing onto the couch.

As she started drawing, she really couldn't help but think back to when she first was introduced to the infamous steps. And of course, that lead her to think of the teacher.

_"Shall we take a look at some paradoxical architecture?" Arthur asked, his eyebrow quirked slightly in a way she found compelling._

_She nodded quickly, enticed by the prospect of going into another dream. Dispite her brash exit, the previous day had simply not been enough for her. As she watched the Point Man direct his attention to the silver briefcase (or the PASIV as Cobb had told her), she looked around the warehouse._

_"Where's Cobb?" she asked. She wondered if she had been a little out of tact with the way he'd looked at her. His eyes, dark and infinate had flickered over hers briefly, and the only thing she could catch was a tinge of something that she only really saw something that she believed to be envy, but it had been too quick for her to confirm. When the moment of silence had ended, he quickly diverted his attention back to the PASIV._

_His response was quick and simple. "Mombassa."_

_She blinked. "That seems an awful long way to go. I guess it's something vital to the job?"_

_The smallest of smirks lingered at the corner of his mouth. "Well, that remains to be seen." He looked back up to her again, and the mask of professionalism he wore made her feel a little intimidated. "He's collecting Eames, our Forger."_

_"Forger," she repeated._

_"I'll allow Eames to explain his job description to you personally. If there's something you should know about Eames, it's this..." His eyes caught hers once more. "...He won't bite...unless you give him a reason to." Another smirk._

_She was caught off guard with that one. She waited until the smirk faded from his face before she swallowed. "I look forward to meeting him."_

_When he didn't respond, she let the subject of the mysterious Forger drop. After stripping her jacket and placing it on the nearest desk, she stood near Arthur and waited for further command. He gestured to the tattered lawn chair and pulled out an IV. Ariadne lay down as instructed, trying to avoid certain thoughts from entering her mind. Certain thoughts that included him and her on the lawn chair, with a distinct absence of tie or that delightfully well fitted sweater of his._

_"Do you want me to insert this?"_

_She blinked a couple of times and tried to hold back the choke arising in the back of her throat. "Wha...what?"_

_He gave her an amused look before repeating himself. "Do you want me to insert **this**?" he said, holding up an IV._

_"Oh," was her slightly high-pitched voice. "Um, yeah. Thanks." She silently cursed her mind floating with alternate innuendo before holding out her wrist. It was quick and painless as he pushed the needle into her skin. She watched as he did the same to himself (but with a grace that she most certainly lacked) and positioned himself on the lawn chair next to her._

_"Are you ready?"_

_"Yes," she answered, possibly a little too quickly._

_As he pressed down on the PASIV's button, a wave of instant calm shuddered through her body, her eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. Before she went under, she could have sworn that from the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur turn his head towards hers._

His description of Eames had led her to feel some sort of need to meet the guy in person, Ariadne remembered. The way he'd described him led her to think that the two had some sketchy history.

_"So, when will I start designing?"_

_"As soon as we have a plan. Cobb had probably already thought of something."_

_Ariadne sipped her tea as she watched Arthur work quickly and efficiently on a standard laptop, which no doubt had been riddled inside out for bugs and security history. She couldn't help but be fascinated by the way he worked. His eyes kept on the screen, rarely glancing down as his fingers typed madly. _

_She let the question that she had been holding at the back of her mind slip. "Cobb...he's...desperate, isn't he?"_

_His hands paused from their work, but he kept his eyes on the screen. "...He's been seperated from his children for years. I would be desperate, too."_

_"How long have you worked with him for?"_

_This time, he looked up from the screen. His eyes were blank for a moment before answering blandly. "11 years."_

_She had a feeling she'd crossed uncharted waters when he returned to his work. Not wanting to press, she turned her eyes back down to the mug between her hands. Another time maybe._

_At that moment, the door to the warehouse opened, letting a large amount of light burst in. Ariadne looked towards the entrance and blinked. Cobb entered, and she quickly recognised the dark circles under his eyes, which themselves were concealing stress. Behind him, a well-built man with short brown hair entered. He walked with his hands in his pockets, as if the warehouse were his, and his alone. Following swiftly behind was a shorter, slightly tubby man with curly black hair, glasses perched upon the edge of his nose. In his arms, he carried one or two boxed filled with small glass jars. The last man entering surprised Ariadne immensely**. **He was dressed impeccably from head-to-toe in a black buisness suit, and his eyes shifted around the warehouse, clearly out of his comfort zone. At least someone was._

_Cobb walked over and stood towering over her. "Ariadne, I'd like you to meet the rest of the team."_

_She nodded and quickly placed her cup down. After standing up, she straightened her shirt with her palms, feeling the pressure. _

_Cobb turned to the others and gestured to her. "This is Ariadne. Our new Architect." He nodded towards the smartly dressed man. "Mr Saito is our employer."_

_She smiled lightly towards Saito. He gave her a polite nod before turning to Cobb. "She looks awfully young. Are you sure she's capable of work on this kind of level?"_

_Ariadne blinked before crossing her arms across her chest. **"She** is perfectly qualified for the job, Mr Saito. If you don't believe me then maybe you'd like to see my designs.**"**_

_A snigger was made from the well-built man next to Cobb. Saito let a small smile grace his face. "That won't be nessesary, Miss Ariadne."_

_Cobb cleared his throat uncomfortably**. **"And this is Yusuf, our Chemist." The smaller man from across the room gave a small wave. "And Eames, our Forger."_

_The Forger gave her a nod and -not with much subtlety- let his eyes roam her once. It was then he gave her a smile and offered his hand. _

_"Ariadne, it is nothing less than a pleasure," he grinned._

_"Eames the Forger," she said, shaking his hand. "I've heard about you."_

_"I hope what you've heard hasn't damaged my no-doubt infamous reputation of fantastic forgery skills," he said with a wink. "So, where did he find you?"_

_"Professor Miles."_

_"Ah. Well, I have no doubt you'll do the job brilliantly. Tell me..." He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable to the small Architect. "...How has Artie-boy been treating you? It's nice to see that you didn't die of boredom."_

_A small laugh escaped her lips before she noticed the Point Man's head turn towards them. "Arthur's been a pleasure," she assured him. "You, Mr Eames have yet to prove the same."_

_"Believe me, I look forward to the challenge. If you ever need anything..." A small white card that seemingly appeared from nowhere was slipped into her hands. He smiled slyly before turning. "...You know who to talk to." _

_As she tucked the card into the back of her jeans, she turned and just caught a glimpse of what seemed like Arthur rolling his eyes._

Ariadne found herself yawning over her sketchpad. As she wriggled off the side of the couch, she noticed the sky outside had turned from a light blue into a park purple colour. She took that as an indication that it was time for some much needed sleep. After placing her pad and pencil on the desk, she moved back to the bedroom, flicking off the lights as she went. When she reached the bed, she more or less fell onto the mattress.

Taking a small joy in the fact that the alarm didn't need to be set, she climbed under the covers and let her head fall comfortably onto the pillow before shutting her eyes. The last thing that ran through her mind before she fell asleep was to wonder where her beloved paradox teacher might be.

Gentle knocking woke Ariadne up. She rolled over and looked at the clock, slightly horrified by the fact that the numbers were still single digits. She shut her eyes again, hoping whatever asshole knocking at her door would realise that they most certainly weren't getting her out of bed. After it persisted, she groaned and kicked back the blankets before forcing herself out of bed.

Ignoring the seering headrush that was imparing her co-ordination, she stumbled towards the living room.

"Coming!" she hissed at the door.

Running a few fingers through her hair (she would at least look presentable whilst scowling at the intruder), she moved towards the door and unlocked it in a flurry of anger and tiredness before swinging it open.

The sight of the figure on the other side made her breath hitch in her throat. She gripped the wood of the doorway until her knuckles turned white out of fear that her knees would give out from under her, while her stomach dropped as if from a great height.

Her voice came out dry and quiet as she tried to swallow down her nerves.

"...Arthur?"


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Hey guys, did I mention that I saw Joseph Gordon Levitt a few weeks ago? He talked to me. Yeah, I talked to ARTHUR.**

**As always, please review and let me know what you think! Enjoy!**

* * *

Ariadne honestly could not think of what to say. He simple stood outside her door, wearing a stupidly calm expression on his face that made her want to slap it right off him. She looked him up and down. He hadn't changed. He'd dressed as if he were on a job, wearing a dark suit jacket paired with a light blue shirt (complete with tie), carrying a briefcase in one hand, the other neatly in his pocket. Impeccable hair as always, making Ariadne feel like somewhat of a slob. She hated that he looked so calm.

She quickly and unfortunately became a lot more aware of her totem, safely placed on her kitchen counter. There was a very large part of her telling her that it was a dream, and this is clearly a projection, because why would the real Arthur come and see her?

"Hello, Ariadne." His voice rang in Ariadne's ears. Deep and soothing.

"...Hi." It came out far too quiet to sound normal. Quickly clearing her throat, she tried again. "Hi, Arthur."

He looked her up and down, so quickly that she almost missed it. He looked down at his watch quickly before raising his eyebrows. "Ah. Well, I apologise for visiting so early. I can come back later-"

"No!" she said, suddenly shying away from her mini-outburst. She pushed open the door and stood aside. "Come in, please."

"Thank you." He stepped in, quickly leading her to feel very embarrassed and very exposed.

They both hovered for a moment, the silence giving Ariadne a very obvious blush along her cheeks. It was slightly infuriating that the Point Man was not having the same awkward reaction. He simple stood -patiently- and waited for her to say something. She couldn't decide whether she felt angry, faint, or speechless. So she went with all three.

"...Would you like a drink?" she asked. "Water, coffee, tea?"

"Water would be great, thank you."

"Make yourself at home." She disappeared into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. She took a few deep **(deep)** breaths before smoothing out her hair with her fingers. As she turned, the shimmering gold of her bishop caught her eye. She stared at it for a moment.

"...Ignore it," she whispered to herself. "Ari, you don't need to check-"

"Again, I apologise for being so early," he called from the living room. "I got the first flight out here."

Snapping out of her daze, she quickly grabbed a glass (skillfully avoiding dropping it on the floor) and filled it with water.

"It's fine," she said, appearing again with the glass in her hand. He thanked her again as he took the glass and waited for her to sit down before sitting himself. He sat down no further than an arm's reach from her, and suddenly, just as quickly as a thunder bolt, memories of the job flooded back to her.

_She stumbled up the wet rocks, taking care not to slip and crack her head open, which would be awfully embarrassed considering she just survived drowning to death. She sat down and ran a hand through her damp hair, trying not to look like she was this close to having a heart attack._

_As she looked up, she saw Arthur climb up after her. Despite everything that had just happened, Ariadne took solace in the fact that no matter what happened, Arthur still looked fan-fucking-tastic, whether he was in a smooth black suit, or a soaking wet leather jacket._

_He bent down and swiftly observed her. "What happened?"_

_"Cobb stayed" she answered, her breaths coming out in short pants._

_"To be with Mal?" he asked. She couldn't ignore the small abmormality in his normally calm voice._

_"No, to find Saito."_

_He looked out to the water and shook his head slightly. "...He'll be lost."_

_"No he'll be alright." She believed it with every fibre of her body that Cobb would be alright. He'd seen the look he'd given his projection of Mal. He didn't believe in her anymore. He would find Saito and bring him out. Somehow, everything would be ok for Dominic Cobb._

_Arthur looked over at her, his eyes hard. "You went into Limbo, didn't you?"_

_She wasn't sure how to respond. Should she lie? Or would it make her seem more experienced?_

_"...To get Fischer, yes."_

_Silence took over between the two for a few moments. Arthur shook his head again, this time, smiling. _

_"...What?" Ariadne asked. _

_He ran his hand over his face quickly, wiping water droplets from his face. "We just took a unbelievable amount of risks."_

_"And that's funny because...?"_

_"Because we pulled it off." He clasped his hands together and looked back at her, holding her gaze for a few seconds before breaking it. _

_"What?"_

_He looked over his shoulder, wearing a small smile. "Your levels were incredible, Ariadne. Best I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever been so impressed with an Architect's work."_

_Had she not been so tired, she might have blushed. "...Thanks."_

_"Come on. Let's get out of here."_

He gave her a subtle smile before talking. "How have you been?"

She nodded. "Good. Yourself?"

"I've been good."

Another silence fell between the two. Ariadne felt like the ground opening up and swallowing her whole would not be the worst thing. She didn't remember him being this...quiet.

"So..." She looked at the ground. "Have you heard from Cobb? I mean...did everything-"

"Eveything went perfectly," he assured. "Did you get your payment alright?"

"Yes."

"Good. You know, Ariadne..." He paused very briefly. "Cobb appreciates what you did. More than you'll ever know."

She smiled. "Ah, well...I just designed the levels-"

"No, you did more than that." Before she knew it, his head turned towards her and locked his brown eyes with hers. "I think you should know how grateful I am for helping him. I know it's been torturing him for years."

"You probably know that better than anyone," she replied quietly.

He chuckled lightly before taking another sip of his water. "...You have know idea how violent that man's subconcious can be. Regardless, I believe you've fixed that."

Ariadne found the situation becoming close to unbearable for herself. Having the Point Man in her apartment could only mean two things. One, he had come to claim his undying attraction and affection for her. Or two, he's interesting in hiring her for another job. Considering how creepily unrealistic the former seemed, she settled on the latter.

"Um...can you excuse me?"

She stood from the couch and very calmly walked towards the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. When she was certain he hadn't followed her, she grabbed her bishop from the counter. The feeling was strange and unfamiliar to her, but the weight in her hand gave her some sense of comfort. She wouldn't tip it. She refused to. But for the mean time, it would remain enclosed in her palm. Because somehow, it didn't seem real enough. After all, Arthur, _the _Arthur was sitting in her living room, whilst she was in the kitchen...in her pajamas. She looked at the clock before making her way back into the living room.

She didn't find Arthur where she'd left him. He was standing over her desk, flicking through some scrap designs and plans.

"-They're not very good," she mumbled, fighing a climbing pink across her cheeks.

"On the contrary, I think they're incredibly good." He smirked to himself. "You use a lot of paradoxical designs. My influence?"

She nodded. "They're my favourite. So listen," Her weight shifted from foot to foot. "...If I get dressed, would you like to go out for a coffee?"

Arthur smiled. "That sounds good."

"Ok, give me a few minutes."

* * *

As they walked the streets, Ariadne was surprised to find that Arthur enjoyed small talk. He asked her about school, congratulated her on her graduation, and promised that he would see if he had any contacts in the Architecture buisness. When she brought up the subject of Eames, Arthur explained that he had no idea where the forger had been, probably back in London.

"And where have you been?" she asked, selfishly wondering if wherever he went was more important than helping a confused rookie.

"After the job I stayed in Los Angeles for a while before taking a temporary break. Then I had a job which involved a lot of undercover work in Moscow," he explained flawlessly.

"I guess you've been just about everywhere there is to go."

He shrugged. "I guess. But really, when you're working 24/7 in illegal dream-sharing, there's not much sight-seeing involved." As they walked up to a small corner cafe, Arthur stood by politely and gestured to the door. Ever the gentleman. "Shall we?"

Slightly flustered, Ariadne nodded and walked into the tiny cafe, Arthur on her tail. They walked to the nearest free table where Arthur pulled out her chair for her and headed to the counter to order.

Ariadne still had her bishop in her pocket. It was perfect. Whilst his back was turned, it would have been so easy to take it out and tip it. But in fear of disappointment, she kept it gripped in her hand and waited paciently for Arthur to return to the table with two cups of coffee in his hands. He placed one down in front of her, which she sipped gratefully and watched as he did the same.

Any stranger watching would have thought this was a **date**.

"You don't have to pay for it!" she said, her voice a slightly higher pitch than usual.

He looked up at her, amused. "Don't be ridiculous. I won't have you pay for my treat to you."

"Well...thanks."

"My pleasure. So, Ariadne, what have-"

"Why are you here?" she asked, perhaps a little more harshly than intended. But of course, Arthur (being Arthur) made no signs of effect that may have been caused.

He simply sighed and stared at the chipped wood of the table for a moment, whilst Ariadne waited in painful silence. Eventually, he looked up and caught her eyes.

"I've come to offer you a job."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she was pretty sure that her face must have paled considerably.

"Well...I...um-" she stuttered.

He gently held his hand out, silencing her instantly. "Of course, I wouldn't ask you to decide anything until you know more about the job." His eyes flickered back to hers. "But before I can give you details, I need to know that there's a possibility of your being interested."

For a moment, she couldn't speak. Too overwhelmed at the possibility of even going near dream-sharing again. She looked at the steaming cup between her hands, quickly finding interest in the swirling patterns in her coffee.

"Ariadne?"

She kept her head down for a few more moments before clearing her throat and drawing her gaze to the Point Man.

"Geez, Arthur...I...I don't know." She sighed deeply. "I mean, of course I'd love to design dreams again, but the aftermath of the Fischer job was slightly unbearable."

His brow furrowed ever-so-slightly. "In what way, unbearable?"

"Well..." She found herself at a loss for words. "Try and put yourself in my head. A student who's just been pulled into the world of illegal dream-espionage, and has just planted a dangerous idea into a stranger's mind. Not to mention Limbo." She frowned. "I was left at the airport completely alone with no idea what to do next. No instructions, no words of advice...You didn't even look at me!" A slight movement indicated Arthur's shift on his seat. "Nobody told me what would happen next! I had no idea how much what had just happened would affect me! In my school work, in my mind, in my reality...even professor Miles saw that something was up, but you wouldn't know, because nobody even cared enough to see the affects of what you'd pulled me into!"

She was close to yelling now, and she would have stormed off all together if it weren't for the gentle look Arthur had given her.

"Nobody told you what to do next?" he asked, genuine confusion on his face.

She returned his question with a cold glare. Childish, but necessary. "No. Nothing."

This time, _he _was the one frowning. "I just assumed...I thought...Cobb said that you were his responsiblity..."

"Isn't that your job? To make sure things are in place?" she asked, mentally cursing herself for sounding so bitter. "I was confused, Arthur. And scared. But nobody thought to check up on me. Nobody was here."

His expression remained stone-like. "I was here."

Silence fell between the two as her anger quickly subsided and was replaced with confusion.

"...What?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I was here, in Paris. I watched you and made sure that there was no danger aimed towards you. Had I known that you were having problems, I probably would have talked to Miles about it-"

"Why didn't you talk to me? Why would you keep something like that a secret?"

"We normally have a no-contact rule after a job. Minimum of 6 weeks." He sighed once more. "Again, I thought Cobb would have explained this to you. What kind of problems were you having with your reality?" he asked, his voice laced with interest, as if he were a reporter, making Ariadne feel awfully uncomfortable.

"I...I was having nightmares, um...I couldn't stop checking my totem..." They locked eyes again. "I kept looking at people in the street, and my first thought was that they were projections."

"How are you now?"

She paused with her response. "...I forced myself out of that confusion. I'm now at a point where I rarely think about it anymore. I think I'd like to keep it that way." Her hands tangled together on her lap in an awkward pose. "I'm sorry, Arthur. As much as I'd like to work with you, I just don't think I can handle that again."

The Point Man was silent, seemingly running thoughts through his organised mind. "Well...I understand. I certainly won't pressure you. But please just consider it?"

She took one look at those dark eyes and knew that she would think about it. Thanks to him, she probably wouldn't think about anything else. She nodded weakly.

"You won't have to go under," he assured. "Just design the levels. You've graduated now, so it wouldn't be nearly as stressful. And we're not on a deadline. This job will be easy for someone as skilled as you."

"Arthur, I-"

"Just think about it, please." He rose from his seat and grabbed his coat before turning to her once more. "I think you're very talented, Ariadne. This job would be perfect if we had someone like you working with us."

"Us?"

"Eames and Yusuf will be working with us as well." He reached into his pocket and produced a pen, leaned over and scribbled on a napkin before sliding it across the table towards her. "When you've made a decision, call this number." Before turning, he smiled gently. "Remember what you said. It's pure creation."

She took the napkin and looked at his clear, precise handwriting. It was certainly a tempting offer, but she couldn't find the strength to accept it right then and there.

"Just so you know, I'm not certain-" When she looked up, she saw that the man was gone. Just as quickly and sudden as he had arrived.

* * *

**I promise Eames in the next chapter. And Yusuf.**

**Please review and let me know what you think! By the way, do flashbacks bother you? Because I enjoy writing them and I plan to include some more throughout this story, but if you hate flashbacks, then let me know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

The napkin twisted in and out of her fingers becoming more frail and torn by the second.

She didn't need it. No, she _couldn't_ need it. After finally finding some satisfaction in her now normal life, that stupid Point Man dared to come back with a job offer. The nerve of that guy.

Sitting on her bed, her legs crossed, Ariadne let her head fall into her hands, the perplexing dilemma causing a migraine. The thought had burned at her all day, an infectious thought that refused to leave her alone. She couldn't eat, couldn't work, and everything she did just seemed to remind her of the job offer that was floating around.

It's not like she needed the money, because quite truthfully, she was richer than all her friends from the leftover Fischer cash. But she was never really in it for the money anyway. It was the thrill of creating worlds bigger and better than she could ever imagined. The idea that she could create environments to her taste, and fill it when her own subconcious. Or even better. Someone else's. Her eyes were burning, and she was pretty sure that she hadn't blinked in over three minutes, but her mind was racing so quickly, that her body could barely function.

Another job. The idea was so deliciously tempting. Not only that, but she would see Eames and Yusuf again, two people that she had grown fond of.

_Ah, but don't forget, Ari. They left you too._

It was true. They were also the ones who had left her, completely alone. Ariadne wasn't really the one to hold grudges, but this was something far bigger than a mere you-borrowed-money-and-didn't-give-it-back- type of problem. They abandoned her. Left her alone in what was quite possibly the biggest time of need in her life. No, she would not give them the satisfaction of her designs.

If only she hadn't of had a stupid, childish infatuation with the Point Man. Her life would be so much simpler if he wasn't so...attractive. If he hadn't had that hair...those eyes...that body-

Silly hormones.

Just then, a knock echoed through her apartment. She shuddered, knowing that it was either Arthur, or someone else she really didn't want to see. Accepting her fate, she stood from the couch and checked herself briefly in the mirror, in the event that it was the Point.

Unlocking the chain (a habit picked up after the Fischer job), she opened the door. She wasn't sure whether to smile, or slam the door back into the intruder's face.

"Hello pet," The familiar voice spoke. Eames.

"Eames?" she asked in disbelief.

The Forger offered her a smile and leaned lazily against the wood of the doorway. "The one and only. Might I come in? Someone sees me out here hanging by your doorway for too long, and the police might be on my tail sooner than I had planned."

Speechless, she nodded and stepped aside. Eames was barely in her home for less than five seconds, and already acted like he owned the place. As he sauntered in, she took in his appearance. Unlike the Point Man, he had changed. His hair was shorter, perhaps a bit darker? And his already built frame seemed a tad more muscular, framed by a suit jacket that she could only imagine that Arthur would have forced him to get. Or maybe he'd finally come to his senses and ditched the god-awful pink hawiian based shirts she'd seen him sporting. She wondered if he had been more careless than her and had spent the past few absent months running from newly formed foes, hence the need to become fitter.

He turned to her and slipped a small smirk. "Now now, little Architect. You wouldn't be, as you Americans say...checking me out, would you?"

She half choked. "Wha- no! Of course not!"

"Well, you don't need to be so blunt about it."

Rubbing the back of her neck, she felt a shameful tinge of pink grow up her cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

He gave her an amused smile. "Calm down, I was only teasing."

"Drink?"

"Hate to be rude, but I doubt you have anything that I want," he brushed, moving into the living room. Ariadne followed him mindlessly as he waltzed over to her corner chair and half collapse. Letting out a deep sigh, he rested into the chair and let his arms fall on the arm rests, seeming about as content as a house cat. It wasn't until he actually saw the blank stare she was sending to him, did he actually turn her way.

"I know this is a bit of an unexpected visit, but I figured since you let Arthur hang with you for a bit, then I might have the chance of a playdate."

"Playdate?" Ariadne repeated.

"Oh, sorry. _Date, _then." Seeing her wide-eyed look, Eames simply smirked. "Don't think Arthur didn't tell me about your little coffee morning."

"Arthur told you that?"

"Oh yes. In fact, he even told me that he had a rather hard time convincing you to get on board."

Ariadne shrugged and leaned against the side of her desk, folding her arms across her chest. "Well...yeah."

"I was hoping that maybe I could convince you a bit better."

Sighing, she shook her head. "Eames. Please. Don't force me into this."

He shrugged. "No one's forcing you to do anything. I was just curious as to why you denied it so instantly."

She didn't know how to respond to that. How **could **she respond to that, when she didn't even know the answer herself? She let her hair fall, covering her eyes, and affectively shielding herself from the Forger.

"I..." She let a frown cover her face, remembering her doubts. Her struggle back into reality. "...You have to understand, Eames. When I accepted the job, I had no idea what I was signing up for." She looked up and saw Eames eye her closely, taking in her every word. "It wasn't the job that bothered me so much. It was the aftermath. Do you know what it felt like, to have just been through that for the first time? To have been left completely without guidance? In utter lonliness?"

"Well, I'm sure that nobody meant to leave you, as you put it, in utter lonliness," Eames responded. He spoke slowly, but none the less, he still managed to make her feel childish. His response was blunt, and Ariadne suddenly felt stupid, hanging so much on the fact that nobody had talked to her at the airport. Stupid Forger. He continued. "But, you have to understand that we're not usually like that. Jobs are much more..." She watched as he searched for words. "...Organised. Inception was like nothing any of us had ever attempted before- well, all bar Cobb."

"Oh..." Was all she could reply.

"It's not that nobody cared for you, pet. Because we all did." He slipped her a sly smirk. "Particularly that boring prick you call Arthur." She hid her face. "But that job was difficult for all of us. The resounding truth is that the follow up simply slipped our minds."

"How can a person slip your mind?" she retorted, trying to find some way to win over his response.

It was then, Eames leaned forward in the chair, sly and slow. He gave her a small smile. "Think about it, Ariadne. If you had slipped _anyone's _mind...then would we have hired you for this job?"

The point hit her like a bullet in the head.

"Besides," he said, finally leaning back. "You know what you're missing. I'm not an Architect, but I'm sure the thrill of creating an impossible world is temping. You can't possibly say you don't miss it."

_Cocky, sly, stupid asshole. _Deciding that he had finally brought the conversation to a close, Ariadne had no choice but to hover for a moment, before turning her back and walking straight into the kitchen, half-slamming the door behind her. His amused chuckled echoed the room she'd left. She leaned against the wood, her forehead pressing on the peeling paint of the door.

Eames had brought an excellent point into the conversation. A point that made her feel silly and childish for being completely self-absorbed in the situation. But he was right. It was a simple term of error, nothing more. Nothing that she could take personally, and certainly nothing that she could use to prevent the acceptance of this job. This meant that she couldn't fight it anymore. She couldn't blame her persistant doubt on the fact that they'd left her. Now, she had only one choice. To give into the itching, aching, clawing idea at the back of her brain.

"...Oh geez," she mumbled into the wood. "Fine."

"Hmm, what was that?" Eames asked from the other side.

She groaned. "I said, FINE!" Sighing, she pulled open the door and was met with a smirking face on the other side. "I'll do it."

* * *

**Please drop a review my way- they mean so much to me!**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION. **

**I would really really love it if you dropped by a review. Next chapter will certainly be more productive. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was only when Ariadne found herself actually _glaring _at her phone, did she realise that she might as well get the call out of the way.

Sighing deeply, and perhaps a little over-dramatically, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the now crumbled napkin with Arthur's phone number. She picked up the phone and dialed the numbers mindlessly, hoping that he wasn't there. She could handle a voicemail message.

But of course, the Point Man just had to pick up on the second ring.

_"Hello?"_

She swallowed. Twice. "...Arthur? It's Ariadne."

_"Ah, I was hoping for your call."_

She smiled at that. "Well...here I am."

_"There you are," _he echoed, a possible smirk hinted in his voice.

They both grew quiet, and Ariadne found herself twirling her hair between her fingers.

_"So, is there anything in particular you're calling me about?" _Arthur asked, his voice all-knowing.

Ariadne almost rolled her eyes. He knew very well what she was calling about, and she didn't appreciate the teasing.

"I'm calling about the job offer," she replied, finding her voice abormally quiet.

_"Just remember, you don't have to force yourself into anything. I understand the complexity of your situation."_

"Complexity isn't the issue," she said. "I've made my choice, and I think you know exactly what it is."

_"I had a feeling, yes."_

Taking a deep inhale, Ariadne spoke again, a little more boldly- finally finding her voice once more. "But before I promise anything, I think it might be best if we talked face to face. I have some...things I need to say."

_"Of course. I'll come over tomorrow morning to discuss it, if that's alright?"_

"That's fine. I'll see you then."

_"Bye, Ariadne."_

"Bye."

As she hung up the phone, Ariadne felt the large pre-phone call weight from her shoulders slowly fade away. She couldn't help but let her mind wonder even furthur. Why had he asked her the purpose of the call, when he honestly knew what it was about? She didn't appreciate the buisness-like mind games, especially not with Arthur. He was rarely blunt, rarely simple. Like a maze. Hidden agendas and answers everywhere. Unpredictable, like improvising kicks and sneaking kisses.

Unwillingly, she wondered furthur into the memory of the kiss. It was quick, light, but not completely devoid of emotion. Perhaps Arthur had known the unpredictable danger of the job, and thought the kiss would take his mind off of it. Or her mind. Either way, he'd sucessfully distracted her. But why _a kiss? _What if Cobb had seen, or worse, Eames? The Point Man had shown no interest in her prior to the dream. But then again, how would she know if he did?

As Ariadne sighed and leaned back into the wood of her desk, she thought back to when she'd first tried to learn more about Arthur, all thanks to the observing eye of a certain Forger.

_Ariadne was no stranger to creative blocking. Designing the hotel level for the dream was harder than she expected it to be. But of course, she'd had no idea how to design a sophisticated 5-star establishment. In the end, she'd given up entirely, and had spent a large fraction of the day people watching. Mainly Point Man watching. As she leaned into her chair, she could see the figure of the man on the other side of the room, doing what he spent most of the time doing. Typing on his laptop, no doubt riddling out Robert Fischer's life._

_She found him to be absolutely fascinating. The way he spoke, the way he stood, was all a regal reflection of his elegant exterior. But there were a few things she hadn't had the chance to observe. His laugh, for example. She hadn't heard any pure happiness from him since they'd met. Nor had she seen a full smile. It was always the same half-turned smirk when he and Eames were bickering. Or when he and Cobb had had a breakthrough. It was always satisfaction, but never happiness._

_At the same token, she'd never seen his anger. Not that she wanted to, he seemed to be intimidating enough. But she was curious as to how frightening he could be. The only annoyance she'd seen in him was a minor setback in the planning. She'd also had yet to see him brandish a gun. She came to the conclusion that perhaps it was a Point Man's duty to keep his emotions as hidden as possible. Always keeping calm and quiet. It was frustrating when the person you were trying to figure out was Arthur._

_"Trying to burn a few holes?"_

_She looked up and was met with the familar grin of Eames, who was hovering over her work like a persistant dog. Realising she'd been caught in her gazing, a pink flush ran over her cheeks._

_Grabbing her pencil, she tried to fix her attention back on her sketches. "Oh, I'm just-"_

_He held his hand out, instantly silencing her. "Save it, pet. I know what you were doing. Believe it or not, you're not the only female we've ever worked with. I know what the mysterious Point Man can do to the female hormones around here."_

_A moment passed before she sighed, and she ran a hand through her hair before catching the Forger's eyes in an embarrassed glance. "I know it's unprofessional, and Cobb would never approve, but I have to ask..." She paused. "...Is he...available?"_

_A small snort game from the man, as he looked towards the Point in question. "Doubt it. That man has more of a relationship with his blackberry than anything else."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_Eames quickly looked over at Arthur, before turning back to the small Architect. "He's in love with his job, sorry to say." A grin spread over his lips. "Besides, how do you expect to make a move if you know nothing about the man?"_

_"I-" Discovering that she had no defence what-so-ever, Ariadne sighed and let her shoulders slump. "Ok, you've got me there. But what about you, what do you know about him?" she asked, letting her pencil fall._

_Eames smiled at her, the smile never quite reaching his eyes. "That's confidential. Besides, I don't know a lot."_

_In return, Ariadne narrowed her eyes. "I find that hard to believe, Mr Eames. You must have known him for what, five years?"_

_"Nine, actually."_

_"You've known him since he was twenty?" she asked._

_"Of course, that's when I first started getting into Cobb's eye. He and Arthur had already been working together since Arthur was about...eighteen?"_

_"That's awfully young to start dream sharing, isn't it?" she asked, leaning back into her chair, her work forgotten for now._

_The Forger shrugged in return. "Probably. Arthur took it very seriously, as you can probably tell-" he pointed across the room to the Point Man, who was still furiously typing away, seemingly unaware of the conversation taking place. "- He was drawn to it from the beginning."_

_Silence fell between the two, indicating the end of the discussion. But the Forger, ever observant, knew that Ariadne had more to ask. So he remained on the edge of her desk, picking up a styrofoam building from her design and began playing with it. _

_Instead of scowling him for messing around with her designs, Ariadne began to wonder about the relationship between the Point Man and Extractor. Any normal two people who'd known each other for years would have a more comfortable relationship. There was no doubt that Arthur would have been around for the birth of Cobb's children, and probably his marriage with Mal. So why did the relationship (dare she say friendship) seem so strained? They never shared jokes, not openly anyway. But there did seem to be a mutual understanding between the two. Respect, also._

_"Arthur and Cobb, are they friends?" she asked, ever curious. "I mean, Arthur said they'd been working together for 11 years. But there doesn't actually seem to be any emotional connection between the two."_

_Eames stared past her for a moment, his train of thought clearly trying to find a way to correctly answer the question. Ariadne watched him, until he finally turned to her and leaned down slightly. _

_"That, my love, is something I've personally been wondering about for years," he admitted, mindlessly twirling the building between his hands. "I don't think any of us are able to break down the brick walls the Point Man and Extractor have created for themselves, and really, I don't want to try. If it's something they want to hide, then it's obviously something we shouldn't know."_

_The answer wasn't as elaborative as she was hoping for, but she decided that she wouldn't push at the Forger. He probably knew as much as she did when it came to the mysterious Point Man. "I guess. It's just another thing I can't quite figure out," she sighed, finally feeling defeated._

_"I'm going to be honest with you, Ariadne. I stopped trying to figure things out a long time ago." A small smile spread across his lips, a cheeky grin. "It made things so much easier."_


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Sorry! You guys are probably so sick of flashbacks, but I only have a few more planned, I swear. I do have a point in them.**

**Someone dropped a review by, saying that my interpritation of Ariadne was different than that of others. Most 'Ariadne's' either take the job quickly because they're hopelessly in love, or desperate. I have to admit, I did try and create a different character than the ones I normally use. I wanted this Ariadne to be almost reluctant to work again, because of the impact it would no doubt have on her. I also didn't want a full on Arthur crush. I tried to create it as more of a gradual attraction than a love-at-first-sight kind of deal. Sounds silly, but I really wanted this interpretation of Ariadne to be different.**

**Reviews make my day, so please, if you have a second, do feel free to drop one by.**

* * *

The next morning, Ariadne woke up feeling simply awful. The lack of sleep from the night was certainly showing. She pulled the covers back and just managed to pull herself from the bed to catch a glance at her tired reflection in the mirror. Groaning, she forced herself into the bathroom and to the sink, where she splashed her face with cold water, in the hopes of kick-starting her body. She remembered the thoughts that had kept her awake during the night.

She had grown annoyed at herself. No less that a month ago, she was doing fine without them. On her way to forgetting the events of the Fischer job, and proud of it, too. She wasn't overly keen on the idea of being pulled back into the world of corporate espoinage. But of course, her weak, curious mind had taken over, and allowed her to give into the temptation that Arthur and Eames had offered her. Ariadne was all for choices, and she knew that she didn't have to take the job. But the idea that had once repulsed her to re-join, was the very thing that had managed to pull her back in. Dream creation.

So, she'd been up half the night, self-hating her own mind for giving in so freely. She wondered if the others knew she would give in.

Standing over the sink, she remembered she was expecting a visit from Arthur, and that she'd slept in long enough not to leave a chance for dawdling. So she hurried back into the bedroom, and changed in a daze. Throwing on a light grey jumper and her jeans, she topped it off with her favourite red scarf. A little bright, yes, but if she were to act properly around the Point Man today, she would need the confidence.

* * *

"Welcome back," she offered her welcome half-heartedly, knowing full well that the Point Man's demanding presence would throw her off. She was right. Seeing him was just as disorientating as it was the day before. Admittedly, that particular morning, he did seem a little...different. Un-Arthur. Of course, he was dressed as he normally did, black suit pants paired with matching blazer, light blue striped shirt and navy blue sweater. Her eye however, cast upon the lovely tie that was knotted around his neck. It could have been made from rare silk, and she couldn't help but wonder if she could find a scarf in that material. And of course, his hair was perfectly flawless, slicked back into it's usual style. However, she did catch the change as soon as she opened the door.

His eyes were lovely, deep pools of chocolate brown, always managing to catch her attention. Today however, there appeared to be some shadowed dark circles under his eyes. He offered her a small greeting smile, but it was weak. His shoulders slacked slightly. Not too much, but noticable enough to someone who had observed him constantly. He was tired, and perhaps a little frustrated. She didn't dare ask why he seemed bothered.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. Arthur entered her apartment once more, and she just managed to catch his appreciative nod. "Drink?"

"No, thank you." Walking in, he made his way to the living room, as if he knew the place by heart. She watched as he sat on the couch, his hands clasped together and placed lightly on his legs. She did nothing but remain a few feet away from him, leaning against the wall. Silence was shared between the two for a few moments, each person daring the other to speak.

"Arthur," Ariadne spoke, deciding to lead the conversation. "About your offer-"

"Remember, there's no reason why you can't not do the job. I would understand if you wanted us to find another Architect."

"That's not necessary," Ariadne replied, her voice laced with annoyance. "You knew just as well as I did that I would eventually say yes."

He raised an eyebrow, more out of amusment than anything else. "So, I take that as an acceptance?"

"Yes. I will work with you again." Taking a deep breath, Ariadne returned to her stony expression. "I have, however, one condition."

"I thought as much," he said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "What's the condition?"

"I cannot, and will not, be subjected to secrecy."

A light frown graced his features, creasing his forehead. "...I'm afraid I don't understand."

"...During the Fischer job, Cobb was hiding his thoughts in his subconcious. I was the only one who really understood the depth of the situation before we went under. That's why I insisted I come along for the job." She blinked, remembering the deadly look in Mal's eyes. The way the projection was so agressive. Cobb had buried all his memories and regrets into one meticulous dreamscape, completely unknown to the others. "That was probably the most dangerous thing I have ever done, and ever will do. Fischer almost died, as did Saito."

"Saito's injury was...my fault," Arthur pointed out, his voice fading at the end. Ariadne could sense the regret in his tone, the guilt he felt towards the simple mishap.

"But Fischer's wasn't. Cobb even got himself stabbed whilst we were in Limbo. Mal was his demon," she continued. "If I'm to work with any of you again, we have to be on the same level. No secrets. I won't agree to anything like that."

"You want to understand if anything will jepordise the job," he repeated.

She nodded. "Yes."

He was silent for a moment, contemplating the demand in his head. Ariadne watched in fascination, and could only imagine what thoughts were echoing through his organised mind. Finally, he looked up. "Ok. No secrets."

"Promise?"

Another small smile graced his features. "I promise you, no secrets." After a moment of silence was shared, Arthur rose from his seat, with a grace that Ariadne grew envious towards. "Well, now that's settled," he spoke clearly, pulling on his sleeves, flexing his elbows, revealing his cuffs. "I believe we have a flight to catch."

"Wait, flight?" she echoed. "Where are we going?"

"Where the employer is," Arthur answered simply. "Los Angeles. We don't want to miss our flight." He began walking towards the door, while all Ariadne could do was try to remain on both feet.

"Wait!" Responding to her protest, Arthur turned almost instantly. She quickly let her head fall once more, a light colour brushing her cheeks. "How did you know I would accept?"

He shrugged lightly. "I didn't. I guessed."

* * *

It wasn't long before they had both made their way to the airport, the cab ride and check-in both equally silent. Ariadne found it all to be rather rushed. One moment, she was in her apartment, just accepting the job, and now, she was waiting to fly to Los Angeles to meet their new employer. She didn't expect anything less from Arthur though, considering that it was his job to always be prepared. Besides, she didn't mind. She happened to feel a sense of pride as she walked through the airport with him. Catching glances from other various passengers. As they boarded the plane, Ariadne couldn't feel a slight sense of motion sickness as she took her window seat, remembering that the last flight she took was just after the Fischer job. Lonely. Confusing. Lost. However, this time, the Point Man sitting next to her was creating a safe feeling. A comfort that she didn't know could be created.

It was business class, of course. Arthur managed to blend in perfectly, finding more interest in the complimentary newspaper than anything else. Ariadne on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb, twiling her fingers on her lap, hoping that she wouldn't catch the attention of the stewardess, who was too pretty. Ariadne didn't want her near Arthur's eyes. She sunk into her seat and gazed out the window for a good half hour, a word never shared between the two. It was interesting, she pondered, how the two could go for hours without speaking, yet the awkwardness never seemed to come. It was always comfortable.

It was a while into the flight, before Arthur even spoke two words to her.

"Remember when I was training you?" he asked suddenly, drawing her from her tired daze. He turned to her and caught her eyes. "Well, there was one thing we never covered."

"That would be?"

"Defence. I never formally taught you how to defend yourself if necessary."

"I used a gun in Limbo," she pointed out.

"Yes, true. But there's a big difference between a lucky shot and knowing what you're doing. If you think you can just pick up a gun and aim, you're sorely mistaken. You could hurt yourself."

"Did Cobb teach you how to use a gun?"

"No. Mal did." He gave a dry chuckle, void of humour. "Which is ironic, considering her projection has shot me more than a few times."

"I'm sure you've been shot lots of times," she mused.

"Yes and no. If you seperate dream bullets from reality, I've actually only been shot once or twice."

"Does it hurt?" she asked. She had to keep from wincing at the thought of being shot.

Arthur shrugged in return, as keeping the converstation as casual as he could. "Depends. Kneecap, yes. Chest, yes, but not so much as the knee."

"Are you ever afraid?" She feels stupid asking, because really, how on earth could the Point Man be scared? She'd never seen so much as a blinking fear from the man.

He turned his head, gently, his eyes changing. He looked at her with a certain quietness, almost vulnerability that she'd never seen. It catches her off guard. "There are far more things to be afraid of than bullets, Ariadne," he said quietly, before turning his attention back in front of him.

She didn't have time to consider the hidden depth of his answer, before another question struck her over-analytical mind. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Depends on what you're asking," he replied, keeping his eyes on the seat in front.

"Why did you decide to become a Point Man? Why not a Forger, or an Architect? Or Extractor, for that matter, considering you obviously have the skills needed."

"I didn't choose the job, the job chose me. Just like totems."

"I chose my totem. I created it," she replied, silently celebrating the fact that she may have just won a conversation with the Point.

"You _think_ you created it from scratch. Really, you've got something in the depths of your subconcious, something related to that bishop. The totem wouldn't work if it didn't mean something to you. A childhood memory, a treasured artifact, it's endless. The totem chooses the dreamer, just as the position chooses the worker."

She couldn't contain her curiousity for more than a few seconds. "So, if we all have a meaningful connection to our totems, then what's with the die?"

"Another time," he said simply, and the subject drops without question.

_As the seat belt signs switched off, the first thing Ariadne noticed was Cobb rising from his seat and moving towards the bathroom. Most likely to check his totem, something that she noticed the Extractor constantly did. No less than a moment after he'd gone, Eames turned around and popped his head up from over his seat, offering a small grin to the Architect._

_"Don't worry, Ariadne. Everything will be fine," he said gently._

_The Forger had no idea how grateful Ariadne was for that statement. She'd spent the good half of the day worrying about her designs. Are they complex enough? Will the mazes ward off projections? Will Arthur find the paradox that she'd added last minute? The simple reassurance meant the world to her._

_"Thanks Eames," she breathed. Noticing the calm look in his eyes, Ariadne felt a slight tinge of jealousy towards his calm exterior. "How come you aren't nervous?"_

_He smiled. "Well, for starters, you're a rookie, and your first job is inception. Nerves are expected of you."_

_"Gee, thanks," she muttered back._

_"I've tried inception before. It just didn't stick. The pre-dream nerves are the worst part. Once you're under, you should feel more confident," Eames continued, his voice calming and casual to the young Architect's ears. She was borderline asking him about his previous inception, but changes her mind when she sees the Forger's eyes flicker to the alluding Point Man in the seat across the cabin._

_"You alright, mate?" he asked._

_Arthur turned his head swiftly towards the two, making Ariadne feel like two children caught in a bad act. His eyes were blank, with a slight aggitation towards the Forger. "Eames, we're not supposed to be conversing with each other. We're just a group of strangers, remember?"_

_Eames looked around the cabin, his eyes narrowed in fake suspicion before turning back to the Point and snorting. "Arthur...we're practically the only people in the cabin. Relax. I'm just trying to strike up a conversation with the Architect."_

_"And I'm just trying to make sure I do my job right. Cobb will personally castrate you if you do anything to jepordise this job," Arthur warned, his voice dangerous. It makes Ariadne sink down into her seat._

_Eames waves him off, his hand flapping lightly. "I know, I know, I've heard it before. I'm just trying to keep her nerves down low."_

_"Ariadne doesn't have nerves. She'll do brilliantly." Arthur's words calmed Ariadne incredibly, and she quickly began to wonder if she could live up to the obvious faith the Point Man has placed in her work._

_Eames frowned. "How come I don't get any praise like that?" he asked in mock insult. When he didn't recieve an answer, he turned and slumped back into his seat._

_Ariadne decided that this was the perfect time to ask the question that had been burning at the back of her mind since check-in. "Arthur?"_

_"Hmm?" he responded, noncommittally._

_"Why's Saito comingunder with us?"_

_He turned to her, his eyes catching hers for a fraction of a second before glancing down the aisle. "Control check. He just want's to make sure he's worth what he's paying us."_

_It's then that she see's Eames pop his head out from the side of his seat again. "What about you?" he asked, almost challenging. "Why are you coming under?"_

_She then realised that she couldn't reveal her real reason for coming down. She'd promised Cobb. But of course it would look odd, the student Architect who had no interest in going under until the last minute. She finally settles on possibly the lamest response she'd ever used. "...Control check."_

_Arthur gives a slight smirk, but drops the subject. Eames, however, narrows his eyes. "What have you possibly got to control?"_

_"Just to make sure the dreamscapes are according to design," she replies, trying to keep herself from rambling. "Besides, it couldn't hurt to have another pair of hands, could it? Defence and all that?"_

_This time, Eames makes his small laugh more known. "No offence, but you don't exactly seem like the type who's ever seen a gun before, let alone know how to use one."_

_"I could use one on you right now, Eames," she bites back, her annoyance growing._

_"Well said," Arthur adds from his seat._

_They all grow quiet as they spot the Extractor returning._

Had Eames have known that Ariadne had used a gun on Mal's projection, he may have thought a little differently.

It was strange. The last time she and Arthur were on a flight together, Arthur was worrying about plans, projections...anything in contribution to the job. Ariadne had also known exactly what was about to happen. Now, she was on a flight with no clue as to what would happen when they landed.

Suddenly, Arthur leaned over towards her. He became close, close enough to make her slightly uncomfortable in her ability to compose herself. He hovered by her ear, his warm breaths tingling down her spine. A welcomed warmth under the airplane cooling duct. "The employer is an old friend," Arthur says quietly, his voice low and deep, creating a strange feeling inside Ariadne's stomach. "I've known him since I was younger."

Swallowing, Ariadne tried to engage herself in the conversation. "Who is he?"

"Harvey Walton, CEO of Walton Industries."

"What's he doing getting involved with extraction?" Her curiousity was genuine. How was it that some of the world's most famous CEO's managed to tie themselves with illegal espoinage?

"I'm not completely certain on the details yet. This is why we're meeting him. All I know is that it's something to do with the seperation of his company."

"So it should be easy," She says. She hopes.

A small chuckle escapes the Point Man, again, sending tingles and shivers down her neck. "You should know by now, that nothing in this business is easy."

He then pulled away, his eyes quickly focusing on the seat in front of him, as if the previous conversation had never existed. Ariadne could do nothing but try and tear her attention back to the window, hoping that just once, the Point Man's statement might be wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT NOW, AND NEVER WILL OWN INCEPTION.**

**My dearest readers, thank you. Thank you for reviewing and leaving your comments on this story. Honestly, it means so freaking much logging on and seeing how many people review my stories. They really just put the biggest smile on my face. So please, enjoy.**

**Next chapter will reveal the job's details which I've been keeping in the dark.**

* * *

From the moment the plane touched the ground at LAX, Ariadne stuck by Arthur's side. Despite how confident and independent she forced herself to be, being in an unfamiliar place on the grounds of illegal criminal work had unnerved her. And getting lost would not help her at all. Not that Arthur seemed to care. He simply walked them through the airport, making light, but pleasant conversation. It was only when they reached the passport control and he pulled out two fake passports from seemingly nowhere, that Ariadne found herself once again, reeling.

"Where did you get those from?" she demanded, once they'd passed security.

Arthur simply shrugged and handed her her passport. "They're the same ones I used on the way in."

Ariadne didn't answer when she realised that she'd missed the passport exchange on their way into Los Angeles. The Point Man was sly. She opened the passport to find that it almost matched her real passport, excluding the name and a few minor details. She had to hold back a laugh when she read her name.

"Mrs Olivia Charles?" she read, quirking her eyebrow at the familiar alias. "As in Cobb's Mr Charles?"

"Not Cobb's Mr Charles. Mine."

She blinked, and gave Arthur a double take, remembering his disapproval of Cobb's idea to add the Mr Charles gambit into the Fischer job. "You came up with the Mr Charles gambit?" she echoed.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Hence why that's my identity too."

She frowned. "Mr and Mrs Charles?"

"Think about it. Wouldn't it look strange, two prior opposites travelling together on a one day flight to Los Angeles?" The way he asked, made her feel slightly unobservant from not noticing it before. "A married couple persona would be a safer procaution," he added.

"Makes sense." She tried her best to bury her jokes about how they should consummate the marriage. Because to Arthur, that probably wouldn't be funny.

They practically waltzed through the airport, no member of staff daring to keep Arthur or his petite follower waiting for longer than necessary. When they'd stepped outside into the blistering sunlight, Arthur gently held his hand out, pausing her, mid-step.

"Wait here," he said softly. She nodded and watched him disappear into the crowded area, suddenly feeling out of place again. It was no longer than a minute before he returned and gave her a small smile, to which she returned by his side. They walked to a particularly snazzy vehicle, black and shiny, a car that anyone would get a kick out of riding in.

Arthur stood tall beside the door, lightly gesturing her entrance with his hand, ever chivalrous. Ariadne slipped his swiftly, taking notice of the fine leather seats, the tainted windows, like a forgotton Bond car. Very Arthur. He slipped in next, though, she would have described it more as 'floating' than slipping. Quickly running an address to the driver, he sat back and gave Ariadne a very light, (but most definitely there) smile, before turning his shoulder slightly and facing the window.

"Nice car," Ariadne commented as the car began moving, trying to keep up a conversation of sorts.

"Thanks," he replied. "It's not mine."

A small frown ran across her features. "...Who's is it?"

"Mr T. Anderson."

It took a moment for Ariadne to figure out what he meant.

She blinked. "...You...you just took somebody's car?" she hissed, feeling as disapproving as an angry parent.

"Well, we needed it," he replied casually.

"But you're not Mr Anderson!"

"Yes but..." Leaning over, he calmly whispered in her ear, gesturing his hand towards the driver. "...He doesn't know that." Slipping her a sly smirk, he pulled back, leaving Ariadne in state of mild annoyance. These criminals really got the best of her...

But of all things, she wasn't shocked. Stealing a car must have been an easy task for one of these men. It was the smooth style in which he pulled it off that impressed her.

Silently, Arthur leaned down and opened up the briefcase by his feet, pulled out a simple, brown folder, shut the briefcase, and leaned back into his seat. Ariadne watched as he flicked open the page and began running his eyes over the finely typed words. She wanted to talk. After all, she had no idea how long the car journey would be, and she did truly enjoy engaging on conversation with the Point. However, she knew how dedicated Arthur was to his work, and the last thing she'd want to do would be to put him off. So for a while, perhaps a few minutes or so, she began picking at the ends of her scarf, pulling the tiny loose threads. A bad habit.

With no other place to go, her mind wondered (rather unwillingly) to Robert Fischer. Wondering where he'd be now. She remembered the weeks prior to the job, and how she'd spent weeks pouring and skimming over pictures and articals of the man, gaining understanding of his style, his comfort, whatever she could use to help her design the dream. She'd probably learnt more about him from a distance than some of his close friends knew. Probably more than his father knew as well. She knew the names of the bars and resturants he'd visited, the latest opera house he'd been to, the last woman he'd dated, his favourite food, location, suit tailor...everything Cobb had shoved in their faces. Of course, Arthur had gathered all the information. It was then, Ariadne began to wonder if all the work he did had an affect on his morality. Personally, she could never dive into the hidden depths of people's lives like he did.

She had enough problems trying to figure_ him_ out in the first place, let alone anyone else. But then again, Arthur was most certainly not just 'anyone else'.

But was he really comfortable with his job? Spending his hours uncovering other people's lives, practically disgregarding his own in the process? And the people he was tailing- CEO's, con-men, political figures...what if they had things that Arthur never wanted to see? Had anyone ever really stopped to consider Arthur?

She finally broke free from her daze, hundreds of questions itching in her mind before she settled on one. "Arthur, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he said, keeping half an eye on his files.

"It's a little off topic," she warned.

"I'm listening."

Ariadne paused for a moment. "On the plane, you said...Mal's projection had shot you numerous times."

Arthur then lets his paper fall lightly onto his lap, before turning and giving her his full attention. "Yes."

"I was just wondering...how long had Cobb been...suffering for?"

It was a touchy subject, she could tell. Arthur's face softened at her for a moment, understanding her curiosity. "2 Years. It was frustrating for him, I could tell. He's a perfectionist. Having that aspect of his mind threatening every job, every client, every teammate...it was breaking him down. I tried to help him. I tried to remind him of what he was working towards."

"His children." She remembered in Limbo, seeing projected memories of little blonde haired children.

"Right. But his guilt was so persistant, that she kept surfacing."

"Did he ever feel guilty for hurting you?"

He nodded his head, a small movement. "Yes, I believe he did. But he tried not to dwell on it, and I didn't want him to. He had enough problems already without having to worry about me in the process," he replied. He was almost brushing it off, implying that whatever issues Cobb had were more important than his own well being.

Ariadne couldn't understand it. "So for two years, you worked dangerous jobs, suffered endless sessions of pain, and had to watch your teammate fall apart," she stated. "What was in it for you?"

Arthur's face darkened for the briefest of moments, before he composed himself quicker than Ariadne could manage. His shoulders shifted as he tried to hide his discomfort. Of what, Ariadne didn't know. Finally, he spoke. "I owe him more than I can ever repay. I would follow him to hell and back if that's what it would take to help him," He said, his voice strong and certain, unwavering even in the depth of the remark.

Ariadne felt a strong wave of admiration for the man, who had spent probably most of his life working with Cobb. Truthfully, even she had never been that selfless with a person. Always quite independent, comfortable in her own company. But she'd always hoped that one day, she'd have someone who she'd care so much for, that she'd be willing to dedicate as much time and determination into as Arthur had. Shaking her head in astonishment, she only managed to mumble the two words that had stuck inside her mind. "That's friendship."

Arthur didn't respond immediately. He simply continued to stare straight down into his papers. "No. That's loyality," he said, simply.

"I think loyality and friendship tie together," she replied, trying to make her voice sound more wisdom than she had. When the Point Man didn't reply, she bit her lip and wished she'd come up with something more sharp to say. Quickly deciding to change the subject, she turned her attention toward the window, continuing to nibble on her bottom lip anxiously. "Tell me more about this job."

He looked up, then. Offering her a teasing smirk, just large enough to pull at the end of his lips. "You're eager, aren't you?" She didn't really feel like telling him that he was in fact, very wrong. So she waited in silence until he continued. "Well, as I was saying on the plane, Harvey Walton is an old friend. He's been the CEO of the company he inherited from his father for ten years."

"How long have you known him for?" she asked.

"Since we were kids," he replied, plainly. Ariadne found herself slightly baffled at the tought of a younger Arthur. A child. But he had to be at one point, as she knew that he simply didn't just fall from the sky in a perfectly pressed suit...or did he? "We grew up on the same street. I haven't seen him in about...fifteen years."

"Wow," she breathed. "So this will be a little reunion, then."

"I guess so."

"So, um, I guess that I'll just...hang back?" she offered. "Let you deal with all the detailed mumbo-jumbo?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I couldn't ask you to simply hang back. Besides," He caught her eyes in a sly contact, a simple smirk held within his dark, chocolate brown depths. "I need you to make the team look good."


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thank you so much for some really lovely reviews. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. **

* * *

Around fourty-five minutes later, just as Ariadne's muscles were beginning to tighten and tense at the discomort of sitting down for so long, the car began to slow down, eventually pulling up somewhere in the middle of Los Angeles city. The moment she stepped outside, she realised that they were certainly in the middle of the buisness district. Crowds of fully suited men and women, either talking on phones, or chatting with each other occupied the large, clean space. A crowd that Arthur would fit right into, while she stood there in her bright red scarf and worn jeans. How Arthur was not completely ashamed of her, she had no idea.

Looking up, she saw the large building they'd pulled up to. Very modern, with elaborate glass construction, large windows and dark palettes taking up the exterior. She could have stood for a while simply staring, taking in all the detailed features, envious of the architect who had the pleasure of designing such a wonderful building. Arthur however, caught her gawking and gave her an amused smirk.

"Ariadne, shall we?" he asked, gesturing forward.

"Oh. Right."

He allowed her to lead him through the crowd, she was always keeping her head down, trying to avoid causing Arthur any unnecessary embarrasment. He held the door to the entrance open for her, of course, giving her a gentle smile as she passed him.

The two didn't share a lot of words together. Sometimes it was best that way. As they walked straight into the elevator and rode up towards their selected floor, Ariadne couldn't help but think of how rare it was that silence could be so comfortable. Just as they'd passed the 12th floor, Ariadne cleared her throat and spoke.

"Lovely building," she said, an attempt at small talk on her part.

Arthur gave a small nod. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" He spoke with meaning, a genuine interest in the subject arising. "Reminds me of Scarpa's architectual designs."

Ariadne was already too engaged in the topic to consider the strangeness of Arthur's extent knowledge in a foreign subject towards his own. She shrugged. "I would have said it's more Mayne's style. Apart from the glass of course, but the feel is the same."

He looked towards her, catching her eyes in his own. A corner of his lip upturned, giving her a small, friendly smile. "It's nice to talk to someone who knows what they're talking about."

She didn't have time to respond, as the elevator came to a sudden halt and the doors slid open. Arthur allowed her to step out first, the prior conversation fading as if it never took place. Following him in, Ariadne noticed a large set of couches in the center of the room, framing a large table filled with up to date newspapers and magazines. A typical office for not so typical buisness. Arthur walked right up to the receptionist's desk and composed his straight posture.

"We're here to see Mr Walton," he explained flawlessly.

The young receptionist gave him the once-over, her eyebrows raising just slightly in interest. "...Do you have an appointment?"

"Well, no. But he should be expecting me." The woman opened her mouth as to speak, but Arthur leaned forward slightly and spoke in a deep voice. "I'm an old friend, you see. Perhaps you would honour me with a favour and tell him that I'm here?" It was too much to watch. Ariadne blinked at how sensual his voice suddenly sounded, and instantly knew that the young woman wouldn't have a chance.

Ariadne held the urge to roll her eyes at the receptionist, as she scrurried out from behind her desk and into the next room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Arthur turned and gave Ariadne a small smirk.

Ariadne folded her arm across her chest. "It's not fair, leading her on like that."

His eyes narrowed just slightly. "I was leading her on?"

Before she had time to answer, the sound of a warm voice echoed behind her.

"Someone cut their hair."

Ariadne saw that both her and Arthur turned at the same time to the cause of the voice. However, it was not what she expected to see. Ariadne had always had a vision for Arthur, a set image in her head of the type of people whom he socialised with, who he was friends with. Harvey Walton however, had broken the image she had in mind.

This man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, had clean cut blonde hair, and impossible green eyes that seemed kind, but could cut through even the most confident of people. He was taller than Arthur, but with a more muscular build, whereas Arthur was leaner. Any other situation, and Ariadne might have been intimidated, frightened even. But a large smile on the man's face had settled her.

"Arthur!" he beamed, moving closer towards the Point Man, taking long strides. "So good to see you again!" His joy was genuine, and Ariadne watched with a sense of slight admiration as the two men instantly began talking comfortably.

Arthur's smile was just as genuine, the largest Ariadne had ever seen the man wear. So tempted to grab her phone and snap a picture, Ariadne was disappointed to find that Arthur had concealed it just as quickly as it was revealed. "You too, Harvey."

The man Arthur called Harvey folded his arms, a smug expression worn on his face. "Well, well. Extraction, eh? You've tangled yourself in some illegal work there, Arthur," he teased.

"But it's worth it. After all, it caught your eye enough for you to hire us," Arthur retorted.

"Indeed it did." Harvey turned and caught Ariadne's eye, his smile widening. "But we'll get to that in a moment. Who is this lovely young lady?"

Ariadne was quickly reminded of her own presence and straightened her shoulders, determined to make a good impression. "Ariadne. Nice to meet you." She offered her hand out, something she rarely did. But instead of mocking her like she expected, Harvey held his hand out and shook hers in a firm grasp, as he would with any other.

"It's my pleasure, Ariadne," he grinned. "Interesting name. Greek?"

"Yes, it's a little embarassing..." Ariadne began shrinking back into herself, haunted by the originality of her own name. Something that had been questioned many times before.

Harvey shook his head and pursed his lips. "On the contrary, I think the more interesting the name, the more interesting the person."

"Thank you, Mr Walton," Ariadne sighed, appreciative of his simple approach. It was refreshing to her, to have someone so, well...normal.

His nose crinkled as he made a disgusted face. "Oh god. Please, call me Harvey." Turning to the Point Man, he quirked an eyebrow. "Arthur, I had no idea that there were so many lovely features in your work."

Whilst Ariadne fought down a blush rising in her cheeks, Arthur let one side of his lips upturn. "Ariadne is very interesting. She's our Architect."

"Ah. Wonderful." Ariadne wasn't too sure what he thought was _wonderful_, but she appreciated the sentiment. "Your find?"

"Dominic Cobb hired her. My training."

"Oh." Harvey gave Ariadne an amused expression. "Well, let's hope you've learned a bit more than Arthur knows." A warm smile spread across his face. "Please, come in."

Ariadne followed Arthur dutifully into the adjoining office. As an Architect, it was not only her duty, but her nature to absorb her surroundings. So when she stepped into the clean, modern office, Ariadne instantly began noticing the little details. The dark browns and greens that laced the room, the large leather chairs that occupied the spacious area. Little splurges of colour were revealed through several cubism art pieces, hung precariously on the walls. A simple, clean cut style that Ariadne could admire. Taking her place on one of the large chairs, Ariadne noticed a small silver frame propped up on the desk.

Inside, a picture was framed. On closer inspection, she noticed that captured in the photo were two small blonde haired boys. Wrapping her arms around the both of them, was a petite woman, her smile wide and happy as she laughed affectionately with her children. Ariadne studied the photo for a while, admiring the love that was being conveyed.

As Arthur sat next to her, Ariadne flushed slightly, remembering the last time they'd sat together in such a modern building. What they'd shared. Or more accurately, what he'd stolen from her. Turning her attention back to the blonde buisnessman, she watched as Harvey sat across his desk from them, a large grin still being worn on his face.

"How long has it been, Arthur?" he asked, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.

"Must be about ten years since we last saw each other," Arthur replied.

"Too long." Harvey mused, shaking his head. "I suppose, considering the circumstances, we never really had the chance to reconnect."

Ariadne wasn't sure if she imagined it, or if she was just in a completely different world, but something quickly felt different in the man sitting next to her. A certain air had changed, as if the muscles in his shoulders had just become tighter, or his jaw had become a little more tense. It passed so quickly, she wasn't sure if she was losing her mind.

Perhaps Harvey had sensed it too, as his eyes faltered momentarily, and began changing the path of the conversation. "But anyway, time is ticking and we must get down to business."

Arthur clasped his hands together, and rested his arms on his knees. "Of course. Tell us what you need."

Before speaking, Harvey rose silently and made his way to the corner of the room, hosting an antique glass cabinet, filled with a wide variety of elaborate glass bottles. "It's a long, and rather dull story," he mused, reaching in and pulling out a bottle, filled with dangerous looking amber liquid. He looked at Arthur. "Drink?"

"No, thank you."

"What about you, Miss Ariadne?" he offered, allowing his face to crinkle into a small frown. "I hope you're not too much of a strong drinker."

"No thanks."

"Very well." He took a moment to pour himself a small glass before shutting the cabinet and turning back towards the Extractors. "I inherited this company from my father five years ago. It's been lucrative, and I've made my way from it, but I think it's time I let it go and sold it." His hands flexed around the glass, a deep, gruff sigh escaping his lips. "But there's an issue that's preventing me from selling it. See, I'm not the only person running this company."

"You have a co-partner?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowed in complete focus. Ariadne noticed he did this whenever he was intaking new informtion, a habit of the ever perceptive Point Man.

Harvey nodded. "Yes, of sorts. But I do most of the work, really." He rolled his eyes, a small movement, but defined by his attempted humour. "Before I sell my father's company, I would like to know if I should offer it to my parter. He can have the full company if he wanted."

"But I'm guessing that you're not completely comfortable with that idea," Arthur offered.

"Not exactly. You see my partner is...well, a little irresponsible. He spent half of his life savings on gambling, drink, you name it. I hate to say it, but he's just a bad businessman." He looked at Arthur, his gentle eyes now serious. "I want you to go into his dream, and extract. I want to know if he would take this company seriously. Run it the way it deserves to be ran, and not spent it's makings on stupid desires." He narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of doubt upon his face. "Is it really possible to do that?"

"Of course it is," Arthur confirmed. "We've dealt with harder requests."

Ariadne swallowed. "I have a question," she chirped, slightly reluctant to enter the conversation.

But the small smile on Harvey's face was comforting, and he nodded towards her encouragingly. "Yes?"

"If you know that your partner is a bad businessman, then why consider selling it to him in the first place? Why not just sell it to someone who you trust?"

"That is a good question, Ariadne." He shook his head, somewhat grimly. "I can't betray my partner. My moral ground wouldn't allow me. It wouldn't be fair."

"Who is he?"

Ariadne saw the man's face turn to stone, his jaw tightening slightly, and his eyes flicker between both figures. His throat bounced as he swallowed, a clear nerve overtaking his confidence. Eventually he spoke, his voice quieter than she expected. "...My brother. Andrew Walton."

The young Architect had no idea what these words meant. When nothing else was said, she turned to Arthur, expecting some explaination. The Point Man only stared back at Harvey, his jaw set, his eyes dangerously blank. He was completely still, like a sculpture, never even letting his eyes flicker towards her. It was frightening in a way, seeing Arthur so blank. Ariadne didn't know what to do other than sit in silence, waiting for some light on the subject. Finally, after what seemed like hours later, he spoke. However, it was not the words she wanted to hear.

"Ariadne. Wait for me outside, please."

The order was strong, so instructive that Ariadne instantly complied, understanding that this was a conversation that she could no longer be a part of. She nodded, although the gesture was so small, she was quite sure that nobody had noticed it. Quickly rising from her seat, she just about kept herself from running to the door, keeping her head down. The sudden tension in the room was so thick, it almost made her toes curl. As she was shutting the heavy wooden door, she just caught sight of the two men staring at each other with secret glare before the door clicked, shutting her out completely.

She wasn't quite sure what to do then. She hovered by the door for a moment, waiting to hear a noise. A voice. But unfortunately, the only sound she could hear was the distant whirl of the printer by the receptionist's desk. So she gave up, and took her rightful place on one of the couches in the waiting area, which would have been comfortable, but the sudden nerves she was feeling had created a stiff feeling in her neck.

Ariadne silently cursed herself. This was the exact kind of crap she had been trying to avoid for the past few months. She'd demanded a no-secret policy from the Point Man, only to obey his order in leaving the briefing. What was it that made him so easy to order her about? Ariadne quickly realised it could be a lot of things. She was intimidated by him, infatuated with his every move, determained to pick away at that shielded mind. He had a voice like a _god_, his every word so easy to follow, to listen to. The Architect quickly realised that if she was going to get her way in any part of this job, she would need to create her own way of standing up to him. The idea frightened and incredibly excited her at the same time.

It took her a moment to realise that someone was in fact, standing in front of her.

"Oh," she breathed. "Sorry." She looked up, and fully evaluated the man standing in front of her. Nothing special, really. Not as tall as Arthur, not as muscular either. He looked down at her, with a smirk, something she did not appreciate.

"Quite alright, doll," he replied, turning his attention back to the papers in his hand. Ariadne didn't have time to scowl his little nickname before he spoke again. "So, what brings you here?"

She shrunk back into herself, unsure of what to say. "Um...a friend of mine is in a meeting with Mr Midwell."

He looked back down at her, roaming his eyes once up and down her figure, his mouth tightening into a thin, white line. "Ah." He let his arm fall, and placed his other hand in his pocket. "So you must be the...reinforcements." Seeing the uncertainty in her face, he decided to correct himself. "Extractors."

Ariadne looked toward the office door, which remained firmly shut. She didn't want to be talking to this guy, not without Arthur. She had no idea what to say, or how to keep the conversation in her control. After all, who could they really trust?

"George Layton." He continued. "Mr Walton's PA. I'll be working quite closely with you for the remainder of this employment."

"We don't need any supervision," she almost spat. The idea of this man watching them work appaulled her.

"Mr Walton just want's to make sure everything is going to plan." His face turned into a small grimace. "I want to make sure we're not wasting our time or money."

"I can assure you, you're not," she retorted, suddenly feeling defensive. "We'll get the job done, and we'll get it done correctly."

"That remains to be seen," he mumbled. Ariadne didn't like this guy. Didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and based on her sporting skills, that probably wouldn't be very far at all. He was too confident, to cocky despite the lack of power and respect he had in his stride. Nothing about him fascinated her. Not like Harvey, or Arthur. His brown hair wasn't styled, simply cut short enough so that he probably wouldn't have to deal with it. His eyes were just an off-amber colour, dull and bland. "I never got your name, _beautiful_," he smirked, his voice causing a rising bile in her throat. The urge to slap the stupid look off his face was growing stronger by the second.

Ariadne didn't want to give him her name. But the only thing that could persure her denial was awkwardness and a possible unwanted rivalry between the two. So she swallowed down her doubts and spat out her name. "...Ariadne." That's all the conversation lead to, as soon, the door to the office opened and two figures stepped out, quite different than the two people who stepped in to begin with. Ariadne's glad that Arthur walked out, and looked at Layton with a disguntled glare, seeing him standing above the Architect in such an assertive way. Layton swayed for a moment, before quickly moving and disappearing into the office, with no goodbye. Not that she cared, because any goodbye she would have given him would have bitter and unmeaningful.

Ariadne stood and watched as the Point Man turned back to Harvey, his face set in stone.

"We'll keep you updated with plans and information," he said, his voice void of any emotion. "Just give us the date and place of where we can intercept your partner, and we'll have the Extraction completed."

Harvey nodded, his face understanding. "Thank you, Arthur. I'll have my PA check in on you from time to time." Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and placed it on Arthur's shoulder. "It was good seeing you." He turned his head slightly and offered Ariadne a smile, not quite reaching his eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Ariadne. I hope we can talk again."

Ariadne didn't know what to say, so she simply gave him a quick nod and a small smile. "...Bye."

No more goodbyes are exchanged, as Harvey lets his arm fall, turns around, and heads straight back into the office. Arthur didn't even hover as he began walking towards the elevator, his teeth gritted together to tightly that it made Ariadne cringe. She promptly followed behind him, not saying a word. She only waited until they were in the elevator and the doors had shut before she turned to him, her face soft.

After a moment of silent debate in her head, she quietly asked, "Are you okay?"

Arthur didn't respond right away, simply staring at the doors, his mind seeming to be in a different place altogether. "...Yes."

Ariadne wasn't stupid, she knew something had bothered him. But of course, she couldn't use regular people skills on the Point Man, as he was an enterly different person all together. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Arthur, I'm never just the Architect," she said gently. Very slowly, and very carefully, she reached out, placing her arm lightly on his arm, feeling his muscles tense suddenly at the contact. She quite enjoyed it. "I'm here, if you ever need to-"

"Ariadne," he breathed, shrugging her hand away. A wave of hurt feelings washed over the young Architect, the rejection hitting her hard. He shook his head, his jaw still impossibly tight. "Please, don't." His voice was strong, never angry with her, but painful to hear none the less.

Nothing else was said after that. Ariadne couldn't do anything else but keep quiet and allow Arthur to gather himself back up and keep his thoughts to himself. And for a while, Ariadne was wishing that the Arthur she'd seen in the office would have hung around longer than he needed to.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review if you have a moment! I appreciate all your opinions and words.**

* * *

When Ariadne woke up the next morning, in her own bed, her legs slightly sore from the previous day's travels, a wave of excitement hit her. That day, she would be seeing Eames and Yusuf again. And more importantly, she might just see that familiar silver briefcase.

The way her day with the Point Man had ended had upset her. It wasn't like him, secretive and tense. Arthur was supposed to be the controlled one, the person who knew everything and could handle it all. If she couldn't put her faith in him, then what else was she supposed to do? The way he'd rejected her made her uncertain. She'd tried to help, tried to assure him that she was there if he needed her. But he'd rejected her, flat out. Recoiled from her touch. Now the Architect was completely clueless as to what her next move was. Forget it? Confront him?

She shivered, remembering the way he looked when he emerged from Harvey's office. She had no idea what he was cabable of, a man of his persona. Not necessarily seeing him tense and angry, but almost completely blank. He wasn't like Cobb, or Eames who were capable of expressing their emotions freely. No, Arthur was different. Interesting. Almost like a ticking bomb. All she knew, was that she didn't want to be the person around when it set off.

Slipping from her besheets, Ariadne stumbled across the darkness of her room towards the window. Pulling the blinds back, she was half blinded by the sunlight streaming in. Strangely nice weather. A warm, sunny day in the middle of Autumn. Not too unfamiliar from the day she was hired in the first place.

_Ariadne knew from the moment that she met Dom Cobb that there was something strange. He had a certain air about him, a sadness. His sharp blue eyes were almost clouded over with a distraction. Like he was somewhere else, his mind in another world. But she trusted Professor Miles, and if this man meant that much to him, then she would try and help. Although, she really didn't know what she was helping with yet._

_"So, what exactly does this job require?" she asked, trying to get some more sense. Cobb kept his head down as they walked down the parisian streets. _

_"Designing," he replied simply. "And...construction."_

_Ariadne blinked, feeling incredibly left out of the loop. "Okay. How long do you expect you'll need me for?"_

_"That's...not for certain yet. Could be anything from a couple of weeks to several months."_

_Ariadne frowned. The vaugeness of the situation was starting to annoy her. But she wouldn't press. She was already curious. The job had caught her full attention from the moment she was asked to design those mazes on the rooftop. It had taken her two tries before she'd outsmarted the man, to which he seemed rather impressed._

_"What brought you into Architecture?" he asked, a rather light break in the conversation. _

_She shrugged. "I've always loved designing, ever since I was a kid. Architecture has always been a great passion of mine."_

_"Good," he replied, giving her a small nod. "Passion is always key." He looked up, his eyes seeming to roam the street around them. "I used to be an Architect."_

_"Really?" She was interested now. "Why did you stop?"_

_He grew quiet then, letting his head fall to the road ahead. His shoulders seemed to tighten. "Personal reasons."_

In light of recent events, Ariadne couldn't help but wonder where she would be if she had taken a different job. Or if Professor Miles had chosen someone else. Life certainly wouldn't be as interesting, but surely that would be okay? A normal life isn't that bad. Looking at the people at her college, something about it didn't seem so dull.

She wondered if she was being selfish. Here, she was being offered up an unbelieveable opportunity to work on something that a rare few people knew about. The impossible worlds and places that she could create and enter freely. Inner debate about normal life and 'what if's' were irrelevant and pointless.

* * *

Despite the fact that she hadn't been there in months, Ariadne found that she knew the way back to the warehouse like the back of her hand. She found herself standing in front of the old building sooner than she thought. She took in a quick intake of breath, before reaching forward and pushing open the large door.

De ja vu washed over her, along with a nice mix of nostalgia. Although she hadn't been there for quite a time, she found the feeling of standing in the large space rather comforting. During the Fischer job, she knew that here, she would be able to work. She would be safe in the sights of the rest of her team, and she would know that they could engage in as much dream-sharing in here as they liked.

She inhaled, breathing in the same, dusty air. It wasn't unpleasant. If anything, she rather enjoyed it. It hadn't changed- the same second hand desks scattered around the room, waiting to be used. A large whiteboard that had once been riddled with ideas and mazes was now blank, cleaned of any indication of their work. Light was streaming through the roof windows, giving the warehouse a nice lighting that Ariadne appreciated. A bright flash of god-awful orange caught her eye. Eames.

The Forger sat at one of the desks, a penknife in his hand. He seemed to be carving something into the wood of the desk absentmindedly, and it wasn't until she walked up to him and stood over his shoulder that he even acknowledged that she was there.

He looked up and let his small knife pause from it's work. "Lovely to see you here once more, Ariadne," Eames said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "You must have missed me."

Ariadne couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yes, Eames. My life has been like a black and white world without your presence."

"Alright, no need for sarcasm," he retorted, his voice playful.

She noted his absence almost instantly. The lack of suited Point Man was probably a little too obvious to her. "Where's Arthur?"

"He just stepped out for a while," Eames replied, turning his attention back to the carving on the table top. Ariadne wasn't sure why, but the image of the Forger with a knife in his hands, no matter how small, was actually rather intimidating. She'd seen Eames in action, she knew what he was capable of. After all, his built frame and fighting capabilities were not for nothing.

"Where?"

He didn't even look up, but instead, let his shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug. "Don't know. Didn't think it my buisness to ask."

The jingle of glass made her look up. The sight of the bewildered Chemist pleased her. Yusuf was always a favourite of hers. Shy at first, Ariadne wasn't even intending to bother with making a friendship with him, but a few weeks into the Fischer job, she needed someone else to talk to. Someone nearer along the normal scale than another other member of the team. It was difficult, as Yusuf obviously had no confidence or common interests with the Architect to even hold a full conversation. But she discovered that his love of science and dream-sharing was the crack in his well built exterior. She'd began to talk to him, asking him all he knew about lucid dreaming. He'd opened up to her then, and within the space of a week, she could tell you the difference between a Class-B compound and a sedative with a 99.7% concentrate.

He walked in, his arms holding at least three large crates of amber bottles. The sight itself jarred her slightly, knowing that at least one third of those chemicals would be going into her wrist.

Looking up, he noticed the Architect standing in the center of the warehouse. "Oh! Ariadne, hello," he welcomed, a smile spreading warmly on his face.

She gave a small wave. "Yusuf, nice to see you again." Leaving Eames to his elaborate defacing of the desk, she walked over and began a light conversation. "How's buisness?"

Yusuf nodded and placed down the boxes, before wiping a sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "Very well." He gave her a small grin. "As soon as people find out you've completed inception, suddenly you're the most popular Chemist around."

Eames suddenly appeared then, causing Ariadne to wonder how fast he could truly be. He appeared by her side, his arms folding across his chest. "Begging your pardon, my little scientist friend, but _I _was the one who completed the inception." He pointed his thumb towards himself, causing Yusuf to frown slightly.

"I think it was a team effort, Eames," Ariadne interjected, sensing the start of a very long and unnecessary debate.

But it was too late. Eames turned to her and shook his head. "Not at all. While you and Cobb were playing fantasy world in Limbo, I got Fischer to the safe."

"I think you're forgetting that I sucessfully gave the kick on the first level, and drove you all safely away from projections, which wasn't easy," Yusuf added, his eyes wide with rememberance of the job.

Eames let out a small snort of laughter. "Pah! Safely drove us? If that was safe driving, then Grand Theft Auto is a game for old people and learning drivers. And besides, you gave us the kick too early."

"But Arthur managed to improvise a kick. So perhaps it was his doing that made the job sucessful," Ariadne spoke quickly, hoping to bring the conversation to a close. The silence of the Forger and Chemist made her proud of her little point.

"You might be right, there," Eames said slowly, his thumb and index fingers rubbing the end of his chin in thought. Yusuf shrugged and wondered off to the back of the warehouse again, resuming his work in collecting more compounds. Eames looked over his shoulder for confirmation, before turning back to Ariadne and leaning in, as if telling a secret. "So, how was your little trip with the Point yesterday, hmm?" He spoke in a low voice, the end of his lip quirked into a tiny smirk.

Ariadne couldn't find the energy to tell him about Arthur's strange behaviour. Besides, she was pretty sure it wasn't any of his buisness. "It was...alright," she said, willing to keep as vauge as possible. She noticed a little glimmer in the Forger's eyes. A small cheeky grin that was slowly spreading across his face. She blinked. "What?"

"I bet you enjoyed having the man to yourself all day," he said, the smile now into a full beam.

"I'm not sure of what you're implying." Yes, she did.

Eames rolled his eyes, straighting himself. "Please, we all know that you drool over him all day long." Quirking his eyebrow, the smirk returned once more. "Possibly, sometimes all night..."

"Shut up!" she hissed, unsure of whether she should be more horrified by his words, or the fact that the man in question could walk through the door at any second. "There is nothing going on between me and Arthur."

Shaking his head, Eames pursed his lips. "Never said there was. But I'll bet anything that you have a little crush on him."

Ariadne raised her eyebrows and turned away, unable to look him in the eyes. "I'm a professional, Eames. You're offending me."

"So you're not denying it." The mischivous tone in his voice angered her, and she spun around, her eyes ready to glare daggers into the man if all else failed. He held his hands up in front of him.

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm only saying that perhaps something else convinced you to take this job." He leaned forward once more, his hand directing her attention to the table beside them. "Something other than that silver case over there."

"I don't-"

"And another thing," he cut her off, leaning against the surface of the desk. "It might not be completely unrequited."

"Oh, for the love of-"

"Think about it, little Architect," he continued, a sly grin forming. "Why do you think we're working in Paris once more, when our employer is in the States?"

"Because we have the warehouse!" Ariadne spluttered.

Eames shrugged. "It would be just as easy to get one anywhere else. Besides-" Leaning in, he raised his hand and gently patted her on the shoulder. "- We all know that there's only _one_ member of the team that lives here."

Ariadne didn't quite know how to end the conversation. Eames wasn't right. He wasn't _wrong, _but he wasn't right. She knew what would happen. She would open her mouth and stutter some strange excuse before stumbling off in a pink-cheeked fit. So she swallowed and narrowed her eyes, bringing up the first thing she could think of.

"You're ridiculous." Her words were meant to be bitter, but somehow, she couldn't be bitter with the Forger. He simple gave her a knowing smile as she stomped away, going to the only place she could. Her old work desk.

She wasn't sure what to expect. Some old designs left over, perhaps a styrofoam building or two. But no, her creative space had been stripped clean, destroying any evidence that anyone had even touched the area. Most likely the doing of a thorough Point Man. She dropped her bag on the table top, knowing that inspiration was void in this building, and that she would no doubt have trouble coming up with later designs. But that was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Something far more important, and far more annoying was filling up her thoughts.

Of course she didn't feel something for Arthur, how could she? The only thing that had ever even sparked between them was that kiss in the second level of the inception, and that was his idea. Purely a distraction from projections. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it, but none the less, it hadn't started anything. She didn't want to let herself do something stupid like that, fall for a co-worker. Particularly if this co-worker was Arthur. Strange, mysterious Arthur. He would never approve of something like this. Ariadne had spent too long and too hard working her way into the team as a strong player, only now to transform her image back into a silly, college student.

She did spent a small percentage of her time thinking about the Point Man, but who wouldn't? He was different. She was sure that anyone would spent just as much time as she did trying to figure him out. But that didn't necessarily mean that she felt anything for him. Maybe once or twice, she _had _thought about the kiss longer than she needed to. After all, it was nice. Very nice.

Okay, maybe she did feel the _tinest _little thing for him, but she was sure that at least 90% of the women who even looked at him had felt that. But if she was being completely honest and open, then she knew she wouldn't kick him out of bed.

But Eames had called it a crush.

_A crush._

A crush sounded so juvenile. Like she was a twelve year old girl. She couldn't have a crush on Arthur, because Arthur wasn't the type of person that people get crushes on. She could imagine women falling head over heels for him, or becoming very attracted to him. But crush? That's just some sort of mushy, hormonal, fuzzled up place where the unsure and uncertain lie. Those type of things didn't even exist- you're either attracted to someone, or you aren't.

An attraction. That was something else entirely. Something real, something you can work with. An attraction is something that people get when there is _something _there for certain. An attraction was when a person becomes interested in everything another person does. When their thoughts somehow always returns to them, or when their heart starts beating a little quicker whenever they walk into a room...

_Oh god._

No. Ariadne refused to let the idea settle, refused to let it take place in her mind.

It was impossible. She wouldn't, couldn't be attracted to Arthur. Something like that could be dangerous, not only for their own well being, but for her emotional state of mind. All that would happen was that they would leave again. As soon as the job was done, she would be tossed aside once more. Eames was smart, too smart for his own good. But she couldn't let him be right. No, she couldn't.

Of course, she thought he was extremely handsome, and she enjoyed working with him and being in his company, but-

"Oh, no..." she muttered, shutting her eyes. Her hand made it's way to her face, rubbing the bridge of her nose. This was exactly the type of thing that she wanted to avoid thinking about. Making things much more complex than they needed to be. She had to dismiss this thought. Damn Forger.

It just so happened to be her luck that the cause of all her inner panic walked through the door at right that moment. The sound of the old warehouse door opening she could just about hear. The sound of Arthur's well paced strides was unmistakable.

"Back so soon?" she heard Eames' mellow voice echo through the walls. She was surpised to hear her name be the first thing that the Point Man said.

"Is Ariadne here yet?" The sound of his voice reminded her of the previous day. Then she remembered, she was not supposed to be happy with him and his pissed off mood that he had so willingly taken out on her. It was then she knew exactly what she had to do. She turned, quickly leaving her back to the door. She would not look at him. Avoid speaking to him longer than needed. If she wanted her way, she would have to learn to punish the man. Maybe Eames would cover for her, saying that she didn't want to be disturbed.

"Yeah, she's in there." Maybe not. Footsteps warned her of the oncoming entrance, but she was past the point of making herself look busy. If he saw her in an empty room, standing with her back towards the door, hopefully he'd get the message.

"Ariadne."

She turned her head back slightly, just letting her eyes graze over his hands. Never meeting his eyes, because if she did, then she would remember her previous train of thought, and if she did _that_...then the slight flutter in her stomach would become a lot more obvious. "Oh, hi. Didn't notice you come back." It was weak, but the best she could do. Improvisation was never her strong suit. "What can I do for you?"

Arthur hung by the door. "I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour, yesterday. It was wrong of me to snap at you."

She wasn't expecting that. Not that soon, anyway. It was harder for her to be mad at him if he insisted on being this charming. She paused, before turning on her heel and brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's fine," she mumbled.

"No, it's not." He stepped forward a few paces, until he was only a few feet away from her. "It's not your fault, Ariadne. I shouldn't have taken out my mood on you. I just-"

His eyes narrowed as his head turned down towards the ground, his lips quickly tightening into a thin line. He looked troubled. Ariadne couldn't believe it. The Point Man appeared to be speechless. Arthur, the one man who always knew what to say, who always had the answer to everything, looked absolutely clueless. She would be enjoying the moment if it hadn't shocked her so. He wasn't used to the feeling, she could tell. Sympathy won her over, and she decided to offer some verbal support.

"I understand," she said gently. "It must be hard for you, without Cobb here. I wouldn't blame you if you were feeling a little..." She found herself saying the one word that described how she'd been feeling perfectly. "Lost."

"Lost." Arthur repeated the word, as if he were mulling it over. Testing how it sounded. "I suppose that's what you can call it."

She gave a small nod, and decided that she might try again. "But like I said, I am here for you if you need me."

He looked up then, catching her eyes with his, a movement that almost forced her to the ground. "Thank you," he said, his voice strong and sincere. "The same goes for you."

She said nothing. Knowing the two had some sort of mutual ground to work on was a major accomplishment in her eyes. They were both there for each other. Whether they would need it or not remained to be seen, but still, it was a silent agreement. A buisness deal of sorts. Arthur would have liked that.

After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat and pointed towards the door. "I guess we'd better get some ideas flowing."

He nodded, stepping to the side. "Yes, of course. After you."

Ariadne made her way back into the center of the warehouse, Arthur close behind. They found Eames was wondering around aimlessly, nothing but time on his hands. He saw the two approach and gave Ariadne a soft grin.

"Anxious to get started?" he asked her.

"Excited," she corrected.

Eames turned his attention back to Arthur, who was reaching into his bag and pulling out a handful of brown files. Personal files, no doubt containing information about Andrew Walton.

The Forger was quick to ask. "So, Arthur. Now that Cobb is gone, you must be the new team leader. The Top Dog, the Big Man, the-"

"The Point Man and Extractor, Eames," Arthur sighed. "Nothing more. I could never replace Cobb's talent in leadership, so don't expect me to."

Eames nodded. "I'm waiting on your first order, Captain."

Arthur looked up, his head tilting slightly to the side. His eyes were silently warning the other man. Ariadne couldn't help but smile. The repertoire between the two had provided her endless entertainment during the Fischer job, and she found herself hoping that it would provide the same relief this time around.

Arthur looked at him, slightly exasperated. "I won't be giving any orders. Point Men make sure that everything is tight, and that we are doing the job well. That's all I'll be doing." He gave Ariadne a small glance, before making his way toward the chalkboard. "Let's get to work."

Eames snuck Ariadne a quick wink, before straightening his shoulders. The Forger was abnormally preppy today. "Aye, Sir."

Ariadne couldn't hold back the small exhale of laughter.


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Yes! Okay, I have finally finished my fully developed plot plan for this story, which I am super excited about. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think! Reviews make my day.**

**Information dump. Forgive me, it's necessary to get to the good stuff.**

* * *

Ariadne hated Eames.

Not that little type of annoying thing like he had going on with Arthur, but no, pure hate was radiating towards him at that moment. Of course, he noticed, and gave her a knowing smile that infuriated her even furthur.

If he hadn't said anything, then she wouldn't feel incredibly uncomfortable around the Point Man. She wouldn't be worrying that she was looking at him strangely, or wondering if the slight flutter in her stomach when he looked at her was there before. She hated Eames, because now, she really could not stop looking at Arthur. She couldn't keep a blush down when his hand brushed against hers as he handed her a file. Quick and barely there, but enough to lose all sense of self-composure she had built up just to survive this meeting. She kept her head down and found interest in the papers contained.

"Harvey Walton," he began, his voice strong and leading, just as Cobb's would have been. No doubt he was trying to create himself into a suitable alternative, Ariadne thought. "Is the current CEO of Walton Industries, which he inherited from his father five years ago." Ariadne flicked through the papers to find a picture of the same man she'd seen yesterday. The clean cut, blonde buisnessman was talking on the phone when he'd been snapped. Tagged with a paperclip onto the photo, was a full page of non-stop facts about Harvey Walton. Birthday, Current Location, Blood type, Bank Accounts...it was endless. Ariadne was slightly bewildered. Is this how Arthur spent his spare time?

"The Mark, is his brother, Andrew Walton..." Ariadne's head snapped up at this point, remembering the way Arthur had reacted the previous day when he'd heard this man's name. She wasn't sure what she'd expected to see. A cold look in his eyes, or even a clentched fist. But no, Arthur was as cool and composed as ever, his shoulders straight and strong, his eyes skimming over the folder with intense concentration. Whatever fire he had felt before, had found a way of controlling itself. The Point Man maintained an incredible sense of self-control that she couldn't help but envy. "...Who coincidentally, is his co-partner in running the company."

She looked down, flicking to the next page when she saw it. A photograph of their Mark. Andrew Walton. He was not unlike his brother, but in many ways, he was completely different. The first thing that struck her was that he was in fact, incredibly attractive. Not the brutish, villainous looking man she had assumed him to be. He was no less built than Harvey or Arthur. Lean and muscular. He had the same, thick blonde hair as Harvey, neatly cut. But whereas Harvey's eyes were a shocking green, Andrew had darker eyes. A light hazel if she looked close enough. But something was strange. His eyes had a certain...emptiness about them. He didn't seem as warm as his brother. He had a stiffness that she saw, and she decided within a few moments, that she wasn't particularly loving the idea of going into this man's mind.

Arthur continued, unaware that Ariadne's mind was half on the photograph. "Harvey Walton is going to sell his company, but he wants to know if it's worth offering the entire control of the company to his brother."

"Let me guess," Eames interjected, leaning back in his chair, the file balanced on his leg as he stretched his arms above his head. "Spoilt inheritance brat spending all his father's hard earned cash on the finer things in life."

"If by finer things in life you mean drink, gambling and women, then yes," Arthur returned, his voice aiming a slight bitterness towards the Forger.

"What else would I mean?" Eames asked, returning his eyes to the documents.

A smug smirk tugged at the side of Arthur's lips. "You would have some experience in that area, wouldn't you, Eames?"

"You're actually bothering to ask?" Eames retorted, sending a quick grin toward the Point Man.

"Harvey Walton cannot bring himself to sell the company without asking his brother first," Arthur explained. Ariadne let her eyes fall as she remembered the way that Harvey had explained it. His moral ground wouldn't _allow _him. "The Extraction is simple, and Harvey only wants to find out one thing: "Will my brother accept my deal and handle the company as it should be treated? Shouldn't be too hard."

"Harvey?" Eames repeated, a sly grin forming. "On a first name basis, are we?"

Arthur gave him a small frown, just creasing the lines in his face. "I know him well," he replied. From his clipped tone, Ariadne could tell that whatever relation he had with Harvey was none of Eames' damn buisness. Good, she thought, at least she wasn't the only one who didn't have a clue.

Yusuf spoke up, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read through the information. "So, how many levels are we expecting? Less than three, I hope."

Arthur turned and began scribbling on the board. Although his 'scribble' looked more perfect than Ariadne's own handwriting. Simple, clean cut lines, each word perfectly readable. "Two levels. In the first, we need to establish that there is a deal on offer. On the second, we need to find out how he would deal with the company. Professionally? Or will he continue to slack?"

"What were you thinking?" Eames asked, his interest suddenly peaking. "A company downfall of sorts?"

"Not exactly," Arthur replied. A slight sly look formed in his eyes as he spoke to the Forger. "In the first level, what do you think of Harvey himself offering the company to Andrew?"

"By 'Harvey', you mean me."

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "You give him an idea that you might be selling the company. Let him know that he is under consideration for full company control."

"From his reaction, we may alright get a vauge idea of the emotional motivations he may or may not be having," Eames said with a grin, seeming to enjoy the idea. Ariadne had to admit, she was trying hard to keep up with the two's banter.

"Exactly. Like a gateway for the next level," Arthur explained, and turned to make a small note on the board. "The Second Level, that's where we need to test his commitment to the running of the company."

"What exactly does Walton Industries specialise in?" Yusuf piped up.

"Selling and dispatching chemical compounds," Arthur said. "Sometimes they dabble in the black market, just to keep themselves on the receiving end of expensive products. Simply keeping their hands dirty."

Eames sat up, an idea seeming to strike him. "In order to get an idea of how Andrew Walton would treat his company, we need to give him the chance to blow it."

Arthur's arms folded across his chest, while his eyes narrowed in a matter of curiousity and possible approval. "How do you suggest we do that?"

"A bad buisness deal, perhaps," Yusuf replied, his voice a little above a mumble. His head kept down as he speedily wrote little notes on a tiny pad.

"That's good," Eames agreed. "What if we convince Andrew that some sort of international dealer is willing to sell him some new stuff? Really risky, dangerous dealing. The type of stuff that could land you in jail." The concept seemed to spread itself into an excited beam on his face that Ariadne knew she would never understand. "If he's smart, and cares about the welfare of the company, then he'll say no."

"If he's not interested and uncaring, then he'll agree," Arthur continued, his head nodding in approval. A satisfied smirk look formed on the corner of his lips. "Well done, Eames." Ariadne took amusement in the fact that Arthur had a wonderful way of letting his sarcasm flow so naturally.

Eames returned with an equal smirk. "Your approval means the world to me, Arthur," he quipped.

Arthur's desire for lighthearted banter quickly faded as his brow creased ever so slightly, aging him in the slightest motion. Ariadne found this fascinating and almost didn't listen when he said- "As far as I'm aware, there is no subconcious security training on Andrew. However, our biggest concern is making the offer seem natual and realistic, otherwise the whole plan could turn ugly."

"What about dreamscapes?"

"Not 100% sure about that yet. I thought I'd let Ariadne contribute to that, seeing as it's her forte. Ariadne?"

Ariadne looked up. The other three were staring at her, expectantly, and she realised that she hadn't spoken in a while. Now might be the time to say something.

"Oh." She tried to catch her thoughts up with the rest of the team. Two levels. Offer the company on one, risky buisness deal on two. She looked at Arthur, who was waiting patiently for her to speak. "What's his relationship like with Harvey?" she asked.

Eames tilted his head towards her. "How does that affect the dreamscape?"

She shrugged, a little unsure of whether her question really did have any meaning, or whether she was just asking pointless questions. She managed to explain her query with some grace. "Well, depending on the relationship between the two, the first dreamscape can radically change." She looked at Arthur, who seemed to be watching her with interest. "If they have a good relationship, then he's more likely to talk buisness with his bother in a resturant, or at home. If it's a strained relationship, then it's more likely that it will be in a meeting with several others. Less personal." She gave the Point Man a small smile. "Like you said, it has to feel natural."

Arthur returned her smile. Approving. She couldn't help the slight swell of pride as the Point Man admired her idea. "That's an excellent point," he said, his voice gentle as he praised the young Architect. "I'll talk to you about that another time."

"Second level?" Eames urged.

"That'll probably be in their building, or at a meeting if it's a deal."

"On the first, you'll want me to forge Harvey, correct?" he asked, leaning back into his chair. "And on the second level, I'll no doubt be a seedy dealer."

Arthur gave him a quick nod. "Yes. I'm counting on you to come up with something good."

"Just give me two weeks with Harvey and I'll have him down to a T," Eames said, gently waving his hand in Arthur's direction.

"Right, I'll have to buy you some time with him," Arthur mused in return, standing in front of the awaiting team. He began twirling the whiteboard pen inbetween his fingers, his face set into a thoughtful glare at the floor. Ariadne had never really thought about it before, but had his suits always been this well...fitted? He raised his head. She was glad that he'd decided to turn his attention to the Forger at that moment, otherwise she would have been caught gawking.

"Eames, I'll get you a two week internship at Walton Industries under Harvey's personal eye. Learn him."

"Will do."

_Learn him. _Ariadne suddenly realised why she was in fact, not a Forger. Forger's could read people, figure them out in heartbeat. They had the abilities to get inside their head, learning their every move. Figuring out _why _they walked the way they walked, _why_ they talked the way they talked and _why_ they breathed the way they did. And then they go and do the impossible. Become them. Copy them. Transform themselves into other people in the blink of an eye. Eames was the ultimate actor. Ariadne could barely figure people out even after she'd known them for years, let alone a couple of weeks. And people as complex and hidden as Harvey Walton might be, then she really had no hope of understanding his inner workings. God forbid she should try and copy him.

"Yusuf, since this is a two level job, we don't need a particularly strong sedative." A challenging smirk hinted at the side of his face. "But there's always room for improvement, right? Let's see how steady you can get the compounds. I'd like these levels to be as stable as possible."

"What about me?" Ariadne then asked, her eyes bright and eager for work.

"You're with me. We're going to work on the first level together."

As he turned, his back now facing her, she'd only just had time to re-evaluate what he'd said before a single thought crossed her mind.

Together.

_Woopty-fucking-doo._


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thanks for reading! Quick updates obviously please my readers, but please bear with me within the next week. I promise super-speedy updates after this week. Please leave a review if you have a moment, it means so much and I love to read your comments. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Overall, I shouldn't imagine that the levels have to be that big, but of course, that's your say," Arthur said. "However, on the first level, it would probably be best if we had somewhere we could sedate Andrew and hide ourselves. A hotel, maybe? But again, being the Architect, it's your word over mine..."

Ariadne watched Arthur with intense fascination. His eyes flickered quickly, his mind racing with excitement. It was a side she'd never seen before. But they were under his leadership now, and he had the difficult job of formulating the plan. Now wonder he was this enthusiastic. But even as excitement and determanation took over the Point Man, she still felt as if he was holding back. Still buried underneath the complex barrier that he had built for his exterior. As she leaned on the table, her chin cradled in one hand, she let her mind wonder to observing him even more so. The way his hands made quick notes, sharp and paced, never missing a thing. The way his eyes narrowed slightly when he seemed to lose a train of thought.

"...And we'd certainly need a maze on each level." Looking up, he caught her slightly dazed look, but assumed it to be confusion, rather than observation. Not that Ariadne cared. She'd rather be seen as slow than as creepy. He straightened his shoulders, his grip on his pen loosening. "Sorry. I'm being too controlling, aren't I? This is your area of expertise after all."

She shook her head. "No, I don't mind. If you weren't helping me, I wouldn't know where to start." She gave him a gentle smile, deeply appreciating his help. She still felt rusty, and without her original teacher Cobb, her feeling of bland imagination and creativity only deeped. Arthur seemed to sooth and inspire her mind with his encouraging ideas. "You said that there won't be a militarized subconcious, so I'm assuming we won't need too many diversions. Unnecessary paradoxes or trick dreamscapes will only confuse us."

"You've been thinking about this a lot," he said, a hint of amusment edging his voice.

Ariadne turned, realising her outpour of opinions did seem a little too knowladgable for someone who supposedly hadn't touched dreamscape architecture in months. She raised her hand to her face, pushing hair behind her ear. "I...dabbled a little in dreamscape architecture after the Fischer job," she stuttered, feeling slightly embarrassed. Her slight mental defect during the first few months after the Fischer job had not been her proudest moments. "Just to keep my mind open."

Rather than scowling her, or lecturing her about the dangers in dream and reality confusion like she expected him to, he gave her a strong nod. Approving, almost. "That's good. Never limit yourself, especially when you have the capability to go far." Ariadne blinked. Had it been Cobb, or Miles, she could be getting heavily chastised for letting her grip on reality loosen for even the slightest of moments. Arthur, however, seemed to praise and encourage her strange creativity. She wasn't entirely sure how to react to this. A small frown creased the lines in his face. "I would however, suggest one or two cheats in the levels. Just in case we run into trouble, or alert the projections. If anything, it'll keep us on our toes."

"Sure."

"Now, about the first level," he continued. "The relationship between the two brothers isn't simple. Harvey takes it upon himself to keep the communication alive between the two, while Andrew is not so commited."

"So you're thinking somewhere less personal?" she asked, a new confidence growing inside. Somehow, a compliment from Arthur seemed to mean a lot. More so than Eames or Yusuf's praises.

"Not necessarily." He crossed his arms, bringing his hand up to his chin, a deep thought posessing his mind. "I like your idea of a resturant. Somewhere public, where Harvey would know that Andrew wouldn't kick up a fuss. Somewhere complex enough for a maze, and somewhere we could hide while we go into the next level."

"How about a casino?" She offered. "We could combine it with some sort of hotel, plenty of rooms. You could go under without disruption, and it's a public place." She remembered the many descriptions she'd heard about the other brother during the previous day, and remembering her discontent when she'd seen his picture, had only heightened her impression. "Somehow, I think Andrew Walton seems like the kind of guy that would be right at home there."

Arthur didn't respond right away. His silence was enough to make her wish she hadn't said anything, as her suggestion was obviously stupid and completely wrong. He turned his head, catching her eyes with his, the beginnings of a small smile radiating on his face. "Ariadne, that's brilliant." He spoke gently, quietly. "Perfect. Keeps it a natural environment for him as well. Harvey would approve of that idea."

She smiled, feeling a slight warmth return to her cheeks. Turning her head down, she could feel his eyes boring into her. She wasn't sure whether to feel uncomfortable, or flattered. "You both seem like good friends," she said, a poor attempt at changing the subject. Looking up, she saw the change in his face quite profoundly. He almost seemed confused, as if he himself had no idea of the friendliness the two men seemed to share. She shrugged. "Just something I noticed."

He turned, eyes narrowing in some distant thought. Or memory, Ariadne wasn't sure which. He spoke quietly, "I suppose we were. Once."

"What happened?"

His shoulders rose in a small shrug, his hands quickly returning to the notes they'd written. "We grew up. Got serious. The years just drifted us away, I guess." There was no regret in his voice. It was practically too casual, almost uncaring. Ariadne wasn't sure if she liked the tone. To a Point Man commited as Arthur, it was probably just another inconvenience. There was no fondness. No suggestion that the two had ever had a relationship worth trying to sustain. Why did this worry her so?

Ariadne couldn't imagine a younger Arthur. Couldn't picture him without his perfect, crisp shirts and ties, or his perfect hair, or his perfect, soothing, deep voice that commanded attention of everyone in a room. That's what he seemed to be. Perfect. A carbon Point Man designed by Cobb no doubt, built and programmed to obey every order, complete every job, and cut off every personal issue that made him problematic. But of course, she knew there was more to him. There _had _to be more of him. Underneath all the suits and notes, there had to be just _Arthur._ Who had a personal life, a family, a childhood, _a soul. _Just like her, he must have likes and dislikes, hobbies perhaps? Unlikely, but possible.

Think of him in such an impersonal way made her feel a slight annoyance at herself. Why must she be so infatuated with him? Despite the fact that he was so damned interesting, she had absolutely no reason to pick apart his life like this. It was none of her buisness, and quite frankly, anyone else in this warehouse would be just as entertaining. She found herself thinking that it was almost dispicable the way she thought about him. Carbon Point Man. Programmed. He was not a robot, anybody with half a brain could see that. But of course, she was just confused. When she first began working with him, she would almost feel intimidated, as if she had to listen, and had to do what he said. He took down projections in a single hit, and made detailed planning and organising so easy. She'd felt mixed feelings. Interest. Astonishment. Fear. But then he goes and does strange things like kissing her, and showing up on her doorstep in the early hours of the morning, and her thoughts and perceptions get completely jumbled up once more.

Maybe Eames was right.

Maybe if she stopped trying so hard to figure it all out, then perhaps her life would be a little easier.

She looked at him, trying to hide her eyes from under her mass of hair. He didn't notice, too busy writing. Discomfort was the first thing she felt. Discomfort at the fact that she could refer to him as such a robotic persona. Looking at him then, as he jotted down notes and ideas, his brow furrowed in concentration and eyes sharp with passion of the job, she remembered something.

Arthur was just as human as the rest of them.

"Who were you thinking about being the dreamer?" she asked, ignoring the small whispy falters in her voice. Her ability to be normal with him was once again, shattered by her over-analytical mind.

"On the first level, Eames will be the dreamer," he replied, never lifting his eyes from the papers. "Yusuf will monitor us while we go under a second time. Then I'll be the dreamer."

"Where will I be?" she asked, hoping that she wouldn't have too much of a hands-on job. Killing projections and sedating marks was really more of a 'professional' thing.

"Once you've finished the designs, you can leave. No need to hang around if you don't want to." He turned towards her. She blinked. "You don't have to go under, remember?" Arthur echoed, seeing the sudden uncertainty in her expression.

Yes, she remembered. He did say that. However, she never actually agreed to going under or _not _going under. Wrapped up in the sudden rush of designing once more, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again. She really just found herself taking these things as they come. "Oh, right."

That didn't settle well in her stomach. The idea of the others going under without her. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. Jealousy? No. It felt more like...neglect. Not from them, but from her. She wasn't sure why, but going under meant that she could watch them. Protect them if necessary. After all, they were her team, and there were definite sparks of friendship between them. Well, maybe not Arthur, but she still felt like letting them handling the job on their own would make her feel like she wasn't trying. That she wouldn't be helping. What would she do- no, how would she _feel _if she lost even one of them?

She was probably nothing more than an Architect to them, a collegue and nothing else. But despite that, she would do what she could. Look out for her teammates.

"Arthur?" she asked, her voice noticeably smaller.

"Hm?"

Swallowing, she tugged on the end of her sleeves, a nervous habit. "Maybe...I should. Come under with you."

It took a moment. She wondered whether he had actually heard her, until he let the papers in his hand hit the table once more. He turned to her, with his whole body this time, his expression somewhere inbetween curiosity, and blankness. Just readable. He shifted on his heels slightly, before placing his hands in his pant pockets. "Why the sudden change in mind?" he asked.

Ariadne didn't have a reason. Not one that made sense anyway. "It just doesn't seem fair, letting you guys have all the fun," she said, giving him a quirk of a smile. "Besides, you could always use the extra hand if things get messy, right?" No answer. She waited, but still nothing. She simply watched as he turned his head down, thoughtfully staring into the ground, his lips spread tightly. He appeared to be deep in some consideration that she was unaware of. Curious, she stepped forward just a little, biting her lip gently, uncomfortable with the sudden quiet. "Arthur?"

To the sound of her voice, he looked up. His sharp eyes softened slightly. "Don't make any decisions yet." He grabbed the papers once more, giving her one more glance. "Just stick to designing the levels now, and we'll talk about that closer to the time."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything more to say, and watched him as he swiftly turned and made his exit out of the room. Away from her.

She leaned against the surface of the table, the wood pressing sharply into the side of her hip. Frustration quickly occupied her mind.

Arthur made no sense. At first, he seemed willing to do anything to get her on this job. Now he seemed against letting her go under at all. Admittedly, she hadn't wanted to go under at first, but if she was designing the levels and going into a job that seemed easy, then why shouldn't she? Either she was being completely dense, or Arthur was being too secretive.

Either way, it couldn't possibly work in her favour.

* * *

"Going home?"

Ariadne turned to the sound of Yusuf's voice, her bag strap hung lazily from her shoulder. He was at his desk, his hand poised in mid-movement, a dangerous looking mixture balanced in his hand. Acidic, probably. She nodded.

"Eames already left," she explained. "Arthur said there was no point in me staying for the rest of the afternoon. Best start working tomorrow with a fresh mind." She saw the endless parade of bottle cases and trinkets surrounding his work space. "You staying?"

"Might as well," Yusuf replied, placing the glass down with great ease. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "These compounds are not easy to create. I can't afford to waste much time on sight-seeing." He looked back up and gave her a tired little smile.

"What do you mean?" she asked, walking forward cautiously, not wanting to disturb his work. "Surely you must have tonnes of the stuff in supply. Why make a new batch just for us?"

"It's a little more complex than that," he explained. That's one thing Ariadne liked about him. He was never condisending to the young woman on the team. "It always depends on the dream. The job, the levels, the type of sedative. There are quite a few variables to affect the substance." He shrugged, and swiftly placed his glasses back on. "And of course, Arthur wants it as stable as possible."

"Are you frightened of him?" she blurted out. It seemed a little rude, teasing almost. But she couldn't stop it once it hung in the air. Feeling stupid, she let her head fall, and began kicking the ground quietly with the back of her heel.

Yusuf looked over, and leaned back slowly in his chair. His expression became perfectly blank. "No. He's harmless." A bright smirk appeared on his face. "A little intense, but nothing more than a young man who's trying to do his job right. I've seen it before and I'll see it again, no doubt." Catching her distant expression, he tilted his head to the side and spoke gently, "Why? Are you frightened of him?"

Ariadne looked up. "No," she said sternly. She paused. "Maybe. I don't know what to think of him sometimes," she admitted. Catching the Chemist's sudden smug look, she rolled her eyes and slung her bag up further. "Don't give me that look, you remind me of Eames."

Shrugging, Yusuf turned his chair and began looking over his desk once more. "I'm not going to say it, but we're all thinking it. Except Arthur of course, he's a bit clueless on the matter."

"There is no matter," she replied, just short of snapping. "I wish people would stop insinuating that there is a 'thing' between Arthur and I." Sighing, she let her hands fall by her sides, feeling rather defeated. "It's very frustrating and immature."

"Don't get angry with me," he replied, his eyes never leaving his work. "I'm only observing."

Deciding the conversation to be over, she turned and gave a quick wave over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. "Goodbye, Yusuf."

"Bye," she heard his voice call. She wasn't sure, but she thought she might have heard his quiet chuckle as she walked away.


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**The internet is on the fritz at the moment in my house, so if I suddenly go off the radar, that is why. It seems to be working now, but fingers crossed! I have a lot of interesting updates to get around.**

**As always, enjoy reading. Please review and let me know what your thought! Next chapter is another flashback, I apologise.**

* * *

Ariadne remembered when she went for her interview to attend the college. She'd applied for all the architecture courses going. Design, Construction, History, even Art. Her passion had not been confined to mere skyscrapers. No, she wanted to learn as much as she could. In her interview, she'd met with some of her potential Professors and Teachers. Some were moreunenthusiastic than others, who'd obviously seen enough American girls moving to 'The City of Love' for reasons beyond education. Professor Miles, however, could see from the beginning that Ariadne was desined to become involved in architecture. When he'd asked why she felt a connection to the subject, she'd only had one reply. The indescribable feeling of creating something so wonderful, so powerful, just from a pencil and paper.

As she sat over several blank sheets of paper, she began to feel it again. The excitement, the way her hand was fidgeting, just itching to begin. First Level: Casino.

Casino.

Casino.

...Casino.

She leaned back into her chair, realising that she'd never actually been to such a place. She had no idea what a casino was supposed to look like.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly stupid. Why on earth would she go and suggest a place in which she had no experience? Oh right...to impress the Point Man. Now she knew that she couldn't possibly design the place with no understanding of what it should be like, she saw no other solution but to find someone who did. There was only one person in the entire world that came to mind for this particular problem.

"Eames!" she called. Ah yes, the Forger. He would know what to do.

A few moments later, he appeared at her doorway. "Well, don't you look lovely today." He smiled warmly at her. "What can I do for you?"

Ariadne looked at him, a small innocent blush crawling up her face. "I...I don't know what a casino looks like."

"Ah," he said, his eyebrows shooting up. "And you instantly think of me. I really should feel offended."

"I'm just going on reputation." She gave him a pleading look. "Please, help me out."

"Well," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "In my experience, it's more about the feel of the place, rather than the decoration. Most casinos are rather ghastly."

Running a hand through her hair, Ariadne sighed. "Well, what does it feel like?"

He looked thoughtful, his hand buried under the crook of his chin, rubbing the stubble in a deep gaze at the floor. "Meet me out front in five minutes, and I'll give you a first hand experience." Slipping her wink, he turned and disappeared.

Then alone, Ariadne blinked silently, not totally sure of what she had just signed up for.

* * *

Knowing that Arthur most likely would not approve of Eames taking her to a casino, Ariadne decided to try and avoid a confrontation with Arthur on their way out. She left her bag on her desk, hoping that he would think she just stepped out, if he would encounter her absence. As she slipped out of her doorway, she saw that the man in question was in fact, right by the door of the warehouse, standing in his Of course he was. Ariadne only could imagine that he probably had a sixth sense for these things.

Holding her head high (she was a terrible faker) she began to walk towards the door, avoiding eyes with the Point Man. Eames seemed to be having a light conversation with him, chuckling lightly. Arthur's scowl deepened, and Ariadne guessed that it was either an insult towards Arthur, or some very bad joke that nobody else would get apart from Eames.

"Hey," she greeted, catching the Forger's eye.

Eames looked at Arthur, who was seemingly distracted with a document on the laptop. He gave her a nod, as they both slowly made their way closer and closer towards the door.

"Where are you two going?" Arthur asked, never looking over his back to see them.

She watched as Eames turned slowly, his face blanking into the perfect poker-face, something only the elusive Forger could handle so casually. "Nowhere in particular," he said, his voice careful. "Just...wondering."

Arthur turned, and placed one hand on the back of his chair. "Oh, really?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in amusement. He looked over towards the wavering Architect. Ariadne knew she would not be able to lie to Arthur, just as much as she knew that he would not approve of their little field trip. "Ariadne?"

She froze. Feeling Eames' burning eyes on her, she looked down, avoiding his eyes. "...Just wondering." Trying to use Eames' smooth, confident voice fell flat, and made her sound terribly unconvincing. Although, she figured that Arthur would have figured it all out already.

"Really?" He asked, upturning his lips into a small smile. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Eames was just taking me out for a little architecture research," she explained. "Considering he has so much experience in the matter of-"

"Gambling," Eames said, suddenly very blunt. He folded his arms, seeming that it was his way, or no way. He gave Arthur a challenging look, before turning and giving Ariadne a small nudge on the shoulder. "We're going to a casino, see you boys later."

Ariadne only just turned before she heard Arthur's stern voice again. "Eames."

Both the young Architect and Forger turned, meeting Arthur's hard eyes. He leaned one-armed on the table, folder dangling in his hand, looking slightly exasporated.

"I trust that you'll take care of her," he said, never meeting Ariadne's eyes. "Good Architects are hard to come by."

Ariadne's shoulders sagged. He had to say that. Say something lovely and confusing like that, then cover it with a completely work related condition. It was complicationed statements like that which made her more confused. On the other hand, it made her feel slightly strange, knowing that she was something that needed to be taken care of. It was almost a nice feeling.

"No worries. I'll watch her like a hawk," Eames said, giving his hand a little wave. He gently grasped Ariadne's shoulders and began directing her towards the door. "Come on, little one."

"Stop calling me that," she scowled, gently pushing his arm away. Why was it that she always felt about 10 years younger when she was around him? His childish antics would begin to piss her off one day.

* * *

The casino was certainly a challenging environment for the young Architect. It was crowded, busy, even at mid-afternoon. She now knew exactly what Eames had meany by 'the feel' of the place. Feeling extremely out of place in her jeans and bright red jacket, she stuck behind the Forger, who seemed to walk around with such ease that he may as well have lived there. From an Architect's point of view, the entire interior actually seemed rather ghastly. Bright, reds and greens with flashing lights echoed the room, the smell of booze and smoke thick in the air. Everything was completely mis-matched, but it all seemed to tie together in some odd, fantasy like way. The people walked around like animals, cheering, laughing, flirting, arguing...it was all there. Ariadne felt like she was in a different world all together.

The people were certainly strange. Each one dressed to the nines, chattering away in French and English. A whole mixture of people filled the rooms, some more glamourous than others, but everyone excluding her seemed to know what they were doing there.

It made her glad that she had arrived with Eames, who seemed to work his way around the tables and crowds like he knew the place at the back of his hand. He seemed to belong in a place like this. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed to catch a few of the ladies' passing eyes. But of course, this only made her feel more out of place, and she slowed a little, trying not to draw attention to her sloppy, nervous form.

Feeling Eames' reassuring hand on her shoulder, she allowed him to direct her. "Come on, they don't bite," he grinned.

He brought her around several tables, casting his eyes over each one before finally settling on a rather less crowded game of blackjack. Or, at least that's what she thought it was- she wasn't really too sure.

He slipped onto a stool and began watching various cards being stuck out in front of people. Ariadne frowned when she realised that the stools were abnormally tall, and she had to lift herself up a little just to get on. Curse of the short. "When did you begin gambling?" she asked, brushing a hair behind her ear. Damned thing would never stay in place.

Eames rubbed the back of his neck, thoughtfully. "Um, when I was around 22, I guess. That was my first job. I worked at the bar." He shook his head, a sall smile spreading on his face at a memory of some kind. "Strange people, gamblers. The more you get to know them, the more you realise that they're an entirely different species all together." He looked at her, eyebrow quirked. "So. Never hit the tables, eh?"

Shaking her head, Ariadne began tracing the fabric of the table with her thumb nail, feeling incredibly out of place. "Not once."

"Why reason why?"

"Never had the interest," she said with a shrug. "It always seemed so...vulgur. No offence."

A deep chuckle errupted from the man. "None taken," he grinned. "You're not wrong. It's not the most honourable of hobbies, I'll admit. But, there is a lot more to it than that."

Intrigued, she placed her chin in her hands, watching the rest of the table hustle around them. "Such as?"

Eames looked down. "Blackjack for example." He gestured towards the gards below them. "It's a game of instinct. It's not just about _knowing _how to play, but acting like you're going to win." Tapping the side of his head, he gave her a small grin. "Gambling is one big game of technique and wits."

Ariadne gave a small frown. "I thought it was about luck."

Surprisingly, Eames rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me you believe in that nonsense," he said, his voice quick and dismissive.

Ariadne blinked. "You don't believe in luck?" she asked in disbelief. The Forger, of all people, did not believe in luck. She would have thought that he relied on luck the most, but then of course, everything in this buisness was never how she believed it to be.

"Of course not," he scoffed in return. "Luck is for people who are too slow to find a real way of winning. They rely on nothing but air and chance."

Ariadne could only find the reason to utter under her breath, "...Interesting."

That got the ever-analytical young woman thinking. She'd spend a large amount of her life relying on luck, sometimes it worked, and sometimes not. But she was the suspicious type, blaming things to fate and luck. Never relying on plans. But perhaps Eames was right. Perhaps the way things worked depended on technique and wits. Perhaps there was no such thing as luck- it was a fool's game, for people too lazy to make things happen for themselves.

The more she thought about it, the more the concept confused her. She thought of Cobb, and how he'd lost his wife. It could have been just a case of bad luck, but then again, it wasn't. They'd made a choice. A shitty choice at that, but a choice none the less. She thought of Arthur. A man of plans, who would probably laugh at the idea of luck and everything associated with it.

Her train of thought crashed and burned as Eames gave her a gentle poke at her shoulder. She whipped around, giving him an annoyed frown, but he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Look."

Trying to be smooth -but completely failing- she turned. Whatever Eames was trying to point out to her was not particularly obvious. Her eyes scoured the room, but saw nothing more than people. Large, crowded tables, people cheering, and sometimes ooh-ing and ahh-ing at wins and losses. Several people spread across the bar stools, spending winnings on obsene amounts of drinks. Constant movement, from people walking from game to game, never stopping unless to play. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Ariadne tightened her lips, feeling as if she were missing something important. "I'm not seeing what you're seeing," she admitted.

"Exactly," Eames whispered, before leaning back into his chair, a smug look on his face. "Notice how everything in the room is seemingly open, but in fact completely concealed."

Ariadne frowned, and turned her head once more. She looked closer, seeing through the bright colours and dim lighting. Yes, she could see it now. On closer inspection, at the end of the bar, there was a couple in mid-fight, practically screaming at each other. However, nobody seemed to care. Nobody even seemed to notice as they went around their own buisness. On the other end of the room, crowding around a roulette table, each one with a winning grin. But the closer she looked, she saw that two of them sat scowling, staring endlessly into their glasses. Eames was right. Everything seemed hidden. Only noticable when you looked closer. It was strange, and rather a mind game for someone who had never entered a casino, like Ariadne. She gazed around in awe, taking in all the details she had neglected to find on her way in.

"Shouldn't you be taking notes or something?" his voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned to him, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, _that _won't look weird."

He gave her a tempting grin. "Drink?"

"It's two in the afternoon!" she replied, her eyes wide in astonishment.

A genuinely blank look crossed his face. "So?"

"I- whatever." She shrugged lightly. "Why not?"

She jumped down from her chair, quickly keeping up pace behind the Forger's quick steps. She wouldn't want to get lost in this place, or she may never find her way out. Eames seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and walked right up to a few vacent bar stools. She was a little miffed to find that these were just as high as the others, and tried to ignore his menacing smirk as she gave a little jump onto the cushioned seat.

It seemed to be a much calmer area of the large casino, so much so that she could actually begin to hear a faint musical tune. It was actually rather classy when she thought about it. It reminded her of when she was little, and her family used to vacation in a nice hotel every Summer. She would dress up and follow her father down to the hotel bar, where he would pay the young bartender to keep his mouth shut and serve her a little soda. Somehow, the warm, familiar smell of alchohol stained wood and the sound of glasses clinking was welcomed to her. Comforting.

Eames sat down with the greatest of ease. "What's your posion?" he asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

"Meh, you choose," she sighed. She'd been far too busy to ever really develop an exploration into what her favourite drinks may be. Soon, Eames had ordered her a dangerously clear liquid, whilst keeping a slightly safer beer to himself. Her drink burned her throat and tongue with a pleasant tingle, and she realised that it was exactly what she needed.

As Eames practically chugged his drink, she wondered if she wasn't the only one that needed relief after the stress of the Fischer job. He placed his bottle on the counter and gave her a mischievious smile. "So, tell me little thing, how was your trip with Arthur? We never did get around to that..."

Rolling her eyes, Ariadne lightly began running her fingers along the rim of her glass. "Okay, first of all, stop calling me 'little'. Secondly, I already told you, it was fine."

"Don't lie to a Forger," Eames said, shaking his head slightly. "You're so bad at it," he chuckled slightly.

Holding a quick glare, Ariadne sighed, allowing her shoulders to fall. "It was okay. I mean, the journey there was good, and we actually had some _real _conversations. But-" She blinked, her eyebrows shooting up. "The difference in that man's personality is insane. The way he talked with Harvey, he was like another person. So casual and...nice." She remembered the way he'd quickly become so quiet. So closed again, just after she thought she'd found a way to crack through his guarded exterior. "He must have split personalities or something, because he was completely quiet on the way back.." she said, her voice trailing off slightly.

"Nothing happened then?" He asked, bringing the bottle up to his lips. "You didn't have a lover's quarrel?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I was just being too friendly with him."

"He's strange, that boy," he admitted. "Maybe the endless years of work with Cobb screwed his head up badly."

She wasn't sure why, but Ariadne decided that she didn't like the concept of Arthur's head being 'screwed up'. "He's a nice person, and the fact that he's such a gentleman is a rarity," she said, finding that she sounded incredibly defensive. "But he's still so closed. Intense."

The conversation quickly grew quiet. She watched as Eames found a great sudden interest in gently, slowly spinning the bottle between his fingertips. His lips spread into a thin line as he kept his eyes on the table top.

"Can I be honest with you, Ariadne?"

The unnaturally deep tone of his voice made her ever-curious. "Yes."

He turned his head, catching her eyes. He had a strong presence, the Forger. He could easily intimidate others with one glance of those sharp, grey eyes. "Don't try and fool me, I know what's going on in that little head of yours," he said slowly. "You look at that Point Man like a lioness in heat."

"Eames!" she hissed, catching a quick glance around her. "Don't be so crude."

"But," he continued, as if never hearing her. "If I'm going to tell you the truth, then I think any idea in your mind of you and Arthur should be erased."

"...What?" she asked, bewildered. "Why?"

"Because neither of you are good for each other." His face turned grim, but his eyes remained gentle, sympathetic almost. "You're too free-spirited, and he's too confined. You'd unravel him. He'd cage you."

That shocked her slightly. Not because it was incredibly perceptive, or even because it was Eames that was saying it. It shocked her because she knew deep down, that it did in fact completely make sense. The Forger had really got it right. That's exactly what would happen- a clash of personalities and intentions. But she couldn't help being a little pissed off with him, considering that he was the one that planted the seed of the idea into her head in the first place.

But what really pissed her off, was the fact that she didn't like this observation. Not one bit.

She gave him the hardest look he could manage. "Well...I think you're wrong," she said, lamely staring the man down.

Eames wavered slightly, possibly sensing her defence. She continued to stare at him with bright, accusing eyes. "Well, I can't stop you, can I? Too bloody stubborn, you are," he said, shooting another smile at her. "In that sense, you're perfect for each other. Just giving you a fair warning."

She said nothing to that. Her mind was far too busy with the altitude of what had just been said. She watched blankly as he swigged the last remains of his beer, place the glass down and wipe a thin layer of moisture around his lips.

"Well, we best get you back. I should be off soon, anyway," he explained, pushing himself up from the stool.

"Where are you going?"

"Los Angeles. Arthur hooked me up with Harvey for two weeks." Eames gave her a reassuring grin, so casually. As if he'd completely erased what he'd just said to her from his mind. Ariadne rose from her seat, watching his grin broaden. "By the end of it, I'll be a better Havey than _he_ is."

"That was quick," she commented. She swiftly took her place behind him, allowing him to lead her through the crowded room he obviously knew his way around.

"I know. I was so hoping for an extra day or two to do-"

"Nothing what-so-ever?"

"Exactly."


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Enjoy! I say, things certainly seemed to have perked up a bit. Massive wave of exams ended a few days ago, so now I have all the free time in the world to update. Please enjoy! And reviews are always welcomed and greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Ariadne sat cross-legged on her couch, hunched over a pad and pencil, sketching away. The evenings were her favourite part of the day. So calm and quiet, giving her space to think and relax as much as she pleased. Her mind normally raced away during the day, leaving her rather exausted. However, this night, she was not feeling as relaxed as she'd hoped.

Eames had dropped her off at the warehouse, where Arthur had told her that she could go home for the day. She didn't care, for two reasons. She didn't care because she was already tried, and without Eames' constant antics, she may have just fallen asleep at her desk. She also didn't care because she didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon at the warehouse with Arthur.

She had been fine. There was nothing even considered between her and the Point Man until everyone started talking about it. She wasn't sure whether to be confused, angry, happy, or to just ignore everything all together. Even after the Fischer job, she hadn't thought about it. But now she was extremely aware of the fact that she did _feel_ something for him. And she chastised herself, because not only was it unprofessional and stupid, but she knew that if Arthur found out, then he would either laugh, get mad, or begin to ignore her existence all together. And she didn't want that, because she did consider him to be a teammate, and sometimes, a very possible friend. To lose him would be the worst thing.

Now Eames was gone, she had nobody to talk to about ithe issue. Talking to Yusuf was out of the question, because she was pretty sure that he had the secretive capability of a 2-year old. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that it was typical Forger behaviour. Screw up someone's mind, then disappear for the next two weeks.

But really, she couldn't blame Eames too much. It was her fault at the heart of it. If she hadn't become so obsessed/fascinated with the man, then she wouldn't be in this predicament. She would have something better to do.

Eames had a point. An annoyingly valid one. They didn't go well together- they were complete opposites. He was put together, and controlled by little details, whilst she was more carefree and less meticulous.

Ariadne cursed herself for becoming so infuriated with something that could never happen. She had allowed herself certain privilages.

Look at him, she could. Like him, yes, she could do that as well. She could even think about him when she wasn't working. At the end of the day, she had to accept the fact that she was a woman, and she might just like the incredibly good-looking man she worked with. But under no circumstances must she delude herself with the idea that it could go places. Because it would lead to all sorts of trouble for starters, and would create complications that they could never undo. It would also cause her nothing but disappointment. If they were not involved in dream-sharing, Arthur would never go for her in a normal life anyway. No doubt he had a particular taste in women, and she probably didn't meet any of his standards. So even if she wanted to start something, there was no point in trying. It was an unfortunate, but unavoidable truth.

* * *

_It was hard to believe. To believe that the perfect Point Man had made a mistake. A rather large one at that. Ariadne found it hard getting a firm grasp on the situation. But there they were. Stuck on the first level, with a dying tourist and killer projections. It was more like a nightmare._

_Ariadne stood beside Saito, trying to keep calm and stay out of the way as much as she could while Yusuf began working on the injury. Eames sat in an opposing chair, his eyes dark with some expression that she didn't care to see. The slam of a door alerted her to Arthur's footsteps. She turned slightly, just catching sight of him storming by. He walked through to the next room, accompanied with another door slam._

_Eames chuckled behind her. "Well, someone's a little fussy."_

_Ariadne turned, and gave him a stern look. "This isn't easy for him. Let him be."_

_"Jumping in the defense there?" Seeing Ariadne's discomfort and uncertainty, Eames' expression softened. "Why don't you talk to him? He'll listen to you."_

_"What? Why would he listen to me?"_

_"Because you're calm. He needs a soothing presence." He gestured around the room. "Anyone else here would furthur piss him off."_

_"I can't just-"_

_"Go on, we don't have a lot of time," Eames sighed, turning his head away once more. _

_Ariadne turned to Yusuf, who remained to quietly work on Saito. After a moment of silence, she sighed and slowly sloped over to the next room in which Arthur had disappeared. She stood by the door, unsure of whether to knock, or just walk in. A little silent debate was exchanged with her subconcious, until she gently pushed open the door. _

_She'd designed the city well. The warehouse they were in was clearly designed for space. Arthur was pacing the centre of another large room, filled with nothing but a few cardboard boxes and pieces of broken glass from weak windows. Projections? She couldn't tell._

_Shutting the door behind her, she turned and began walking slowly. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she kept her head down, unwilling to disturb the Point Man's angry strides._

_"Arthur?" she quietly asked. No response. She walked forward, stopping just a few feet away from his striding figure. "It's okay."_

_"No, it's not," he sighed. He stopped, reaching his hand behind him to rub his neck. "I screwed up, Ariadne."_

_"It's not all your fault," she assured, though her voice still seemed as quiet as it could be. "Cobb didn't tell us-"_

_"Cobb has enough problems," he said, snapping his body around. "The fact is that I should have done the work right, Saito shouldn't have been injured, and you shouldn't be here."_

_She had been unpepared for the sting that she felt from that. She knew she wasn't the most experienced person on the team, or smartest, or strongest or smoothest. But hearing the one person that she really valued an opinion from, reminding her of that in one short phrase hurt like hell. He stared at her, his eyes unflickering._

_Swallowing, she pulled her shoulders back, and hardened her gaze on him. "I know you think I'm young, Arthur. You probably think I'm unprepared for this job, but the real fact is that I'm here for every person on this team, including you." She became annoyed at the fact that he didn't even falter, his hard stare remaining on her. But she kept her head up high, unwilling to be wavered by the Point Man. __"You might not want me here, but I am, and I will finish the job I came here to do."_

_The last words hung in the air, echoing in silence between the two. Ariadne could feel her heart pumping inside her chest, just waiting for his response._

_Neither could break away from each other's eyes. After moment (that really seemed like an eternity)__ Arthur sighed, his shoulders falling heavily. "__Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice deep and soothing in the hollow room. "That I don't want you here?"_

_"That's what it sounds like," she replied, bitterness lacing her voice._

_Nothing else was said for the next few moments, and no more words were shared between them. Arthur broke off their stare to glare into the floor, while Ariadne watched his shoulders tense back up with the thick, heavy weight of the silence. She let her arms dangle by her sides, feeling utterly useless._

_Just then, a loud cry of pain cut through them. Ariadne jumped, fearing the worst, her legs tensing up- ready to run. But after seeing Arthur's cool exterior, she realised that there was nothing to run from. That scream was somehow part of the plan. Eames._

_As Arthur began walking toward the door, she looked down, keeping her eyes on the ground. As he walked past her, he slowed, just hovering by her side for the slightest of moments. Nothing but a step away. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, and hear the sound of his calm, slow breaths. She allowed herself to become lost in it for the smallest of moments._

_"We should go," he mumbled, his voice so quiet, she could only just hear it. She nodded, but remained with her feet glued to the ground. She didn't know what to expect, a slight grasp of her hand perhaps? As a sign of comfort? Or even just a small pat on the shoulder? She waited, waited for any signs of reassurance, but nothing came. And it wasn't until she heard the last of his footsteps, and the quiet shut of the door, did she feel completely lost once again. _

* * *

It was on mornings like this that Ariadne wished she'd bought a car.

The sudden cold winds and frosty smell could only mean that winter was certainly on it's way. The sharp, cold air nipped at her skin as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. The sudden drop in temperature meant that she had to substitute her beloved red jacket for something a little more suited. She'd slung her bag strap across her shoulders, and tucked her hands in her pockets, whilst buring her face into her silky indigo scarf. She'd thought about it, but of course, buying a car required two things; money, which she never seemed to have before the Fischer job, and places to drive. Since she seemed to spend her life running back and forth to the College and the warehouse, she thought walking would be the most efficent way to get around. But now that she'd finished school (and jobs never lasted forever), she'd have to get used to her new-found freedom.

When she arrived that the warehouse, it seemed surprisingly quiet. Then she remembered that Eames was in another country all together. No wonder things seemed much calmer. Shutting the door behind her, she walked in, seeing the figure almost instantly.

Arthur was standing over his desk, running a pen through some notes, a small frown creasing his handsome features. She began unbuttoning her coat, keeping an eye on the working Point Man. He was wearing a particularly fitting suit jacket, as always, tailored down to the very fine points of his frame- his shoulders, his lean torso. He turned, hearing her quiet footsteps.

"Hi," she said, running an quick hand through her hair.

"Hello," Arthur replied, accompanied with the smallest of tugs at the corners of his lips. "Have a nice evening?"

Ariadne let her bag strap slip from her shoulder and onto the ground. "Yep. You?"

"It was alright," he said with a slight nod. "No rest for the hard working. Is it still cold outside?"

"Freezing."

Arthur let his eyes flicker to the door. "Good on you for walking. I would have come and picked you up if you had called."

"Don't worry about it. Walking's good exercise," she sighed. "Did Eames leave this morning?"

"Yes. Now maybe we'll get some work done."

She smiled, enjoying the light-hearted air of the conversation. He seemed to be in a good mood, which always made her feel like that day would be a little easier. "That was awfully quick. The way you got him a job with Harvey like that."

"It's very easy for me to pull strings like that." He looked up, catching her eyes in the tinest of smirks. "Keep that in mind, should you ever need me."

Arthur's voice. It was sly, and sexy, which she had not been prepared for. Ariadne blinked. The combination of his eyes on her and the sudden silence of the room could only allowed her to respond with one small blurting sound. "...Ha."

His eyes widened a little at the distorted sound, giving her an amused stare. The space between them suddenly seemed unbearably awkward. Well, awkward for her, as she could never imagine Arthur feeling such discomfort_. _Wavering on her feet a little, Ariadne cleared her throat.

"Well... I best be getting to work," she said, giving the room behind her a small point with her thumb. "Places to build, mazes to create."

"Right." Arthur gave her a smile. It was tiny, and barely there, but it was still a smile, and she'd like to think that it counted. Nodding slightly, she turned, and picked up her bag once more as to avoid dragging it on the ground.

For some reason, Ariadne felt that the Point Man was in a more casual mood today. Perhaps it was actually the fact that Eames had gone, and if so, then she wished that he would be away more often. She liked this side of Arthur. The calmer, softer side that smiled at her and snuck her little smirks every now and again. It made him seem more human. She'd only seen it once or twice during her time working on the inception, but that was the limit. Maybe now that Cobb was no longer breathing down the back of his neck the entire time, Arthur would begin to loosen up a little more. But then again, she knew that there was only so much she could hope for.

She'd only just made it a few feet away when Arthur had called out behind her, "Oh, Ariadne, there's something-"

But he was cut off. Cut off by the extremely quick sound of her shoes stopping dead on the ground. She was sure that she would leave skid marks. But Ariadne was too occupied with the sudden feeling of her shoulders freezing up, and her jaw snapping together painfully hard.

There, standing in her work space, hovering like a pest over her designs was George Layton. Ariadne was not surpised at all to find that the sight of him still gave her a unpleasant, uncaring feeling. And she was especially not happy about the fact that he was standing over her work with a bored expression on his bland face. Folding her arms across her chest, she coughed aloud, sounding incredibly forced and unecessarily loud.

He turned, a small pompous smirk spreading across his face. "Hello- Ariadne, was it?"


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

* * *

Ariadne realised that she needed to relax in order to seem the slightest bit normal. But it was hard with the infuriating man in front of her wearing a stupid smirk that made her want to slap it right off again. She just managed to un-clench her jaw and let her arms relax a little, swaying by her side uslessly.

"What are _you _doing here?" she asked, the discontent in her voice clearly seeping through.

"I'm here on behalf of Mr Walton," Layton said, glancing down at the papers in his hand. "I specifically remember telling you that I would be checking up on this team's work every now and again."

Ariadne folded her arms across her chest, feeling the same discomfort and irritation that she'd felt when she had first talked to the man. "And I remember telling _you_ that we don't need checking up on, Mr Layton."

"Just doing my job," he said, accompanied with a light, lazy shrug.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Ariadne mantained her tense stance. She quickly felt the Point Man's strong presence behind her, comforting her in a strange way. Looking over her shoulder a little, she could see his figure close behind.

"Ariadne, this is-"

She gave him a small nod. "I know. He's the control." She wasn't indending for it, but she seemed to come off a little too bitter for her liking. But then again, subtlety was never her strong suit.

Layton let his hands fall drop slightly, a small grimace falling on his face. "With all due respect, Miss Ariadne, I am here on behalf of my boss to make sure that we are not wasting our valuable time on you," he sneered. "This job needs to be done correctly." His head turned a little, his eyes flickering from Ariadne to the figure behind her. "Now, I would like to talk to you," he said, sending Arthur the smallest of glares. "In private."

Ariadne swiftly stepped to the side as he moved past her, his cheap suit leaving her sight as quickly as it arrived. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ariadne turned on her heel, looking accusingly at the Point Man.

"Arthur, we don't need this," she said, wearing a defined frown.

Arthur gave her a small, understanding nod. "I know. I can't do anything about him, it's his job." He shot a quick look over his shoulder, before speaking in a quieter, more sympathetic tone. "He won't be here for long. He's just making sure that we're actually doing the work we're being paid for."

Ariadne let her gaze fall to the ground, feeling frustration loom over her. "He bothers me," she admitted.

A small noise, almost a chuckle, escaped Arthur. "Me too," he said. "But like I said, we're just going to have to put up with it."

* * *

Ariadne's day had gone drastically downhill. From the moment she began working, she could hear nothing but Layton's sneaky voice, asking questions, contradicting the other team members. At one point, he'd even gone to far as to try and direct Yusuf's chemical combinations. It made her cringe. She barely even had the chance to talk to Arthur all day, especially when she needed his help. He was either knee-deep in his own paperwork, or being interrogated by Layton and his 'inquiries'. It actually rather amused her when she saw Arthur sitting there, completely emotionless, simply tolorating the pest of an assistant.

She'd thought she'd got away lucky, managing to avoid any long-term conversation with the man. Until the afternoon.

She was standing over her desk, trying to finish some basic blueprints for the first level. Eames' little field trip really had helped her, and she managed to re-create the scenery and take influences from the layout perfectly. She was rather proud of herself.

Standing with her hand on her hip, and a pencil hanging between her lips, she was observing her sketches when he barged in. With papers still in his hands, and his face contorted into an ugly frown, she gave a little jump as he half slammed the door open.

He didn't seem to care, and simply clicked his fingers in a way that she found disgustingly condesending. "You," he demanded, keeping his eyes on his damned papers. "I need to ask you a few questions."

Ariadne wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove those stupid questions of his, but remembering Arthur's wise words, she caught herself. "...Fine."

"Tell me about the different levels."

"Why don't you ask A-"

"Your Point Man doesn't seem to be warming up to me," he cut in. A bitterness laced his tone. "It's down to you."

Ariadne didn't like it. She didn't want to reveal the elaborate details of their plan to this idiot. Particularly if he wasn't a character that Arthur seemed comfortable with. But it was too late to deny him any information now. Besides, he was working for their employer. Dealing with him would only be part of her job now. "Well...the first level's a casino," she explained, unwilling to give away too much detail. "Arthur said that Harvey's his brother better in an environment that's comfortable to the dreamer."

Layton gave a small nod, and scribbled her works on a notepad he'd been carrying. "And the second level?"

"An office complex," she replied, quickly. The longer he was there, then the longer it would be before she could get back to her designs.

After he'd finished scribbling his notes, Layton let his arm fall as he looked up. He caught her eyes, in an annoying smug expression. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

Ariadne's eyes flickered around the room. He wasn't wrong, but of course, she couldn't say that. She was practically working for him. But then again, she was never one to keep her opinions to herself. Oh, what she wouldn't give for Arthur or Yusuf to walk in.

"...Where would you get that from?" she decided to say, her voice stupidly innocent.

"Don't lie to me."

Silence echoed through the room. Ariadne hated it. Silence was alright when you were with someone you got along with, or even someone who doesn't care about the silence. But there seemed to be a very obvious distaste between Ariadne and the scrawny man in front of her.

She let herself look away as she felt his eyes burn into her. On the ground, on her desk, anywhere but those dull eyes of his.

She heard a heavy sigh from him. "Well, I guess I'll get an answer another day," he said, his voice exasporated, perhaps even a little bored. "Goodbye."

Ariadne never looked up, until she was sure he had left the room. She really hated herself for being so weak sometimes.

* * *

Ariadne felt an immense sense of relief as she heard him mutter a half-hearted goodbye to Arthur, and left the warehouse in a flurry of notes and papers. Realising that she now had the chance to sneak a word with the Point Man, she gathered the blueprints she'd done over the day, and left her work space.

She found him almost hidden behind a desk, mounts of paperwork being scribbled and stored away in neat piles. His sharp, sculptured face set into a stony concentration. It was almost a shame to break it.

She wondered up, slowly. "Arthur?" she asked, secretly wondering if she should refrain him from doing his work like this. "Would you mind taking a quick look at the layout?"

"Of course not. Here," He gently grasped the sketches from her hands. She watched as his dark eyes flickered across the sheets, occasionally turning to a different one. It took a while, and she felt a slight sense of awkwardness as she stood over him, but she figured it was a good thing. It meant he was actually taking it in. But really, what else would she expect from the ever-detailed Point Man? "You've already done this, just today?" he asked, his voice wonderfully deep. Ariadne gave a small, hesitant nod. Arthur looked through the last of the papers, looked up, and handed her back the designs. "Yes, this looks great. Brilliant, really. I would just recommend spacing this out a little more..." He pointed his finger over the blueprints, circling a small space. "...Just so this particular area seems less crowded. This is where Eames' forgery of Harvey will be talking to his brother here. We don't want the space to be confining."

Ariadne nodded, secretly chastising herself for missing such a detail. "Oh, I didn't think of that. I'll fix it."

Arthur placed his hands in his pockets, stepping back on his heels. "Don't worry about it tonight. You can go home if you want, it's getting late."

Watching the Point Man pace towards another desk, Ariadne found herself hovering in one spot. "Well actually..." she began, pushing hair behind her ear. "I was wondering if I could stay here for a while?"

Arthur just glance at her from over his shoulder, a slight quizzical look fogging his eyes. "Sure. May I ask why?"

"I just don't feel ready to go home yet."

It was a silly answer, she knew that much. But what other explanation could she give, other than the fact that being alone on that particular night didn't sound at all appealing? Without the Forger, the day had already seemed far more dull than usual, and the fact that they'd had a snarky snob breathing down their backs all day didn't help. At least now, Ariadne might have some pleasant company.

However, Arthur probably didn't feel like that. He probably relished in his time alone, and would most likely not want a chatty young Architect distracting him all evening.

But she appeared to be wrong. After a few moments, he nodded, and swiftly turned back to his work. "Okay."

That was one quality in Arthur that she vastly appreciated. He knew to not ask questions.

* * *

**Please drop a review by if you have a moment. Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**DSICLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**I hope that this is enough hinting of A/A to keep you going. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Ariadne sat on one of the old, ragged lawn chairs, her legs crossed beneath her. Arthur had kindly moved it closer to his desk for her.

She was slowly beginning to appreciate the faint beauty of the warehouse in which they worked. It really wasn't so bad- quite wonderful, actually. Large, stone pillars were spread round the large space, and the walls were just an off-white, peeling away from years of neglect. Whoever had set it up (probably Arthur), had done a very good job of providing the right reasorces for them. At least six large desks remained from the Fischer job, each one accompanied with chairs, about as comfortable as they could be.

But of course, she was grateful that she had her own space, just off the main room. A space were she could clear her head, get some peace. It had been her solace during the Fischer job.

Large windows covered the walls, and despite the lateness of the hour, the warehouse was kept lit by multiple lamps on the desks that Arthur had managed to provide.

As Ariadne twirled her scarf inbetween her fingers, she couldn't help but stare. The faint, yellow light from the lamp was casting dark shadows over his angled features, creating shadows and illusions that she had never noticed before. It made him look more defined, even a little older. She began to notice patterns and details in the way he worked. Like the way his eyes flickered quickly over the words and letters, or the way his lips and jaw tightened when he hit a dead end in information. And his hands. How they gripped a pen tightly, or could gracefully write with skill and precision, the way he would handle a gun. He sat with a straight back, his head just bowing down enough to work, with his suit jacket hung carefully across the back of the chair. She almost wanted to steal it, and use it as a blanket to keep her warm while she watched him work.

"Miles told me that you graduated with honours," he said, his voice quiet as he continued to write quickly and efficiently.

She looked up through her eyelids, her hair falling over her face. "Miles told you that?"

"Well, he told Cobb."

"You still speak to Cobb?" Brushing her hair past her face, Ariadne sat up in interest.

"We spoke once, a few months after the Fischer job," he explained. "He was just checking in on me."

"He must care about you," she replied. Her voice gentle.

Arthur paused, his hand hovering across the paper for the smallest of moments before he resumed. "You could say that, yes."

"Have you heard from Eames today?"

"No. If he's doing his job correctly, then he shouldn't have time to call."

"He'll do fine," she assured, letting her eyes wonder to the ceiling.

"I have no doubt. He's good at what he does."

Ariadne nodded. "You're right."

She noticed a small flicker of movement across his face. A quick tense of muscle on his strong jaw. "You get along with Eames quite well," he said, rather slowly. Ariadne looked up, and caught him giving her a quick glance. She wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but something in the Point Man's voice sounded almost accusing. Suspicious. A very small part of her thought that maybe it may have been _jealousy._ But no, envy wasn't Arthur's style.

Then she realised what he was actually accusing. Her and Eames? She could laugh at the idea. Of course there was nothing going on. But she understood, that from Arthur's analytical view, her cheeky friendship with the Forger may have come across as flirtatious. Which admittedly, it was. But that was Eames' nature. Why Arthur had found it worth pointing out, she had no idea.

She also had no idea why she suddenly thought it so important to correct his suspicion.

She hastily looked down, her eyebrows raised. "Hmm. Yeah, I guess. He can be a little overwhelming sometimes, but he's a bit of a relief to have around."

"In what sense?"

"Well..." She began, her voice timid. "Everyone seems so...serious. Eames is a little childish, and I guess I just find that refreshing." A small laugh echoed from her, her shoulders falling. "I'm still at that stage myself."

Arthur's eyebrow quirked a little, giving his head a small shake. "I don't think of you as childish."

"You don't?" she asked.

A small shrug shook his shoulders. "No. I look at you, and I don't see some girl that's just finished school."

She leaned back into her seat, her arms folding across her chest. She gave him a challenging look. "What do you see, then?"

"I see a brilliant, creative mind," he said, his hard voice laced with a soft tone. "A strong young woman."

She could not hold down the pink tinge that began spreading across her cheeks. "Geez, thanks," she muttered, embarrassed.

The corner of his lips upturned in a small half smile. One that she loved to see him wear. "You're welcome," he said, gently.

The space between them grew silent. Ariadne found herself wanting to hide as she felt his sharp eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to tear away from the gaze. She watched as his expression faded into his familiar angled, blank exterior that she had seen so many times before. It was strange, and she felt like she found it a little harder to breath normally as he continued to stare at her. Of course, he seemed completely calm. Too wrapped up in his own thoughts as he locked both their eyes with all the control in the world.

She was almost thankful when she saw the Chemist trudge along the warehouse floor, rubbing his tired eyes.

Breaking the gaze, she gave him a small, but enthusastic wave. "Bye, Yusuf!"

Yusuf looked up, gave her a small smile and raised his fingers in a small slaute. "Have a good evening. You too, Arthur."

Ariadne watched as Arthur sent him a quick, ever-professional nod. "See you tomorrow."

She watched as Yusuf slowly walked across the floor, shutting the door behind him as he left the place altogether. Biting her lip, Ariadne turned to Arthur, who was staring at the door, an almost puzzled look on his normally composed face.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't know what Yusuf thinks of me," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel too comfortable with taking direction from a younger teammate."

"Maybe he's just intimidated," he replied.

"No, he's not," she smiled. "Don't forget, he's been in the buisness longer, and has probably seen a lot more than you."

"I highly doubt that," Arthur said, his eyebrows raised a little in obvious doubt at her theory.

She saw it as a challenge. Leaning forward a bit, Ariadne gave him a small grin. "Some people are immune to your intimidation, you know. Not everyone's scared by you." Her voice was almost teasing, knowing that the Point Man would be attraction to a little contradiction from the young Architect.

Instead, he asked something that threw her completely off. A question that she'd hoped she'd never have to give him an answer for. "Are you?" he asked, his voice distinctly quieter than before. "Are you scared of me?"

Ariadne went quiet. After a moment, she let her gaze fall to her hands, that were tangled on her lap in an anxious heap. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, and she had a feeling that if she said yes, then that is exactly what it would lead to. But truthfully, sometimes she did find herself unnerved by the man. His hard, sometimes cold looks. His dangerous capabilities. His tall, lean mobster-like presence. Eventually, she spoke, her voice barely audible.

"...Sometimes," she mumbled.

Hearing the creak of a chair, she looked up through her knotted curls. He'd leaned in closer, his arms on his knees, hovering just at the end of the old piece of garden furniture. She found that she was unable to move, her muscles seemingly frozen as his face softened towards her. "You shouldn't be. As a Point Man, it's my job to protect the team," he said gently. "It's not something that you should have to worry about. I wouldn't hurt you."

Trying to be unreactive to the last part (quite a large effort on her part), Ariadne swallowed and shook her head. "It's not that," she said. "I just feel a little...inferior when I'm around you."

"I've heard that before," he said, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

Ariadne gave a small scoff, leaning back and swinging her legs over the side of the seat. "You just have no idea, do you? The effect you have on people, or the way you make people feel."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur lean back into his seat. "Yes, I do," he said, his voice sounding the smallest bit strained. "That's what I have to do. I have to scare people, Ariadne. I have to be intimidating. If I wasn't, then no-one would ever take me, or the team, seriously."

"Why wouldn't we be taken seriously?" she asked, shifting over slightly, turning toward him.

A small, exasperated laugh escaped the Point Man. "We're not the most conventional of extraction teams," he said, amusement playing on his features.

Ariadne gave a small shrug, lifting her head and looked toward the window. "That may not be the worst thing."

She could still feel his eyes on her, and for some reason, that suddenly made her seem a little more self-concious. Reaching up, she pulled on the ends of her scarf and licked her lips quickly, feeling abnormally awkward in her movements. For a while, everything seemed to be enveloped in a comfortable quiet. The only sounds loud enough to hear were the slow, calm breaths of both teammates. And although Ariadne could still feel the Point Man's dark eyes boring into her form, she found herself becoming more comfortable with the idea.

They remained like this for a a while, until Ariadne sighed. "I should go. It's late," she said, rising from her seat. She ran her hands down the front of her shirt, brushing the small remnants of dust. She heard the scrape against the ground as Arthur stood from his chair.

"I'll give you a ride home," he offered.

She shook her head. "You're working, you don't have to."

"How do you propose getting home, then?"

Picking her bag from the back of the lawn chair, she slung it around her shoulders. "I walked here, I can walk again just fine," she explained.

"Walking home this late is dangerous, and I'm not going to shove you in a cab with god-knows-who. I'll drive you."

Ariadne knew how stubborn she could be, and probably could have argued her case longer, but Arthur was already pulling his jacket on himself, ready to go. Besides, she had began to feel tired, and walking home did not sound the most appealing idea in the world.

"Okay."

* * *

Ariadne liked Arthur's car. No, actually, she rather loved it.

It wasn't his, probably a rental or a loan from a connection, but either way, it suited him. She found the black leather of the seats to be extremely comfortable, and it heavily complimented the dark exterior and tinted windows. Very Arthur. It made her feel as if she were riding in an old Bond car, or perhaps an expensive vehicle in which the best and finest would ride.

She was glad she stayed. It may have been a small moment, and it was barely there, but she had most definately created some sort of connection with the Point Man that night. He seemed calmer, more casual when he'd talked to her.

She sat in the passenger seat, watching out the window. "Thanks for letting me stay behind tonight."

Arthur's hands remained a firm grip on the wheel. "Thank you for keeping me company," he replied. "Nobody's ever done that before."

"Oh, well, anytime," she said, a small smile gracing her face.

After a moment of nothing but the sound of the engine whirring, Arthur broke the silence. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

She caught him shifting in his seat. Such a small movement, she barely saw it. "You and Eames..." he began, slowly. His voice hesitant. "You're not-?"

Ariadne whipped her head around. "No! Of course not!" she exclaimed, trying to contain a loud, ungraceful laugh. "He's not...my type."

"Oh?" he asked, his face contorted with genuine interest. "Then what is?"

"I don't know," she admitted. Soon, she realised that she had to ask. She couldn't stop herself. "What about you? Do you have a...type?"

"I used to," he replied quietly.

The conversation slowly died into silence. Ariadne felt herself sinking back into the seat, already regretting asking such a personal and inappropriate question. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

When Arthur pulled up just outside her building, Ariadne was more or less already out of the door before the wheels had stopped moving. She grabbed her bag from by her feet, gave Arthur a small smile, and opened the door.

"Thanks," she said, sliding out of her seat.

"Anytime," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road in front, his hands resting loosely on the wheel. Ariadne stepped onto the sidewalk, and was about to shut the door, before she realised that she had to say thank you. Or at least something that would bring the ride to a better close than the way they'd left it.

As she hovered by the side of the car, and leaned down and said the first thing that came to her head. "You're a nice person, Arthur," she softly said. "Just thought you should be reminded of that." She shut the door, turned around, and hastily walked to her entrance of her building, keeping her back turned to the car only to hide the painful embarrassment on her face.


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Oh my gosh, we've reached the 100 review goal, people! Thank you ever so much for reading and reviewing, it means so much. I've read some really lovely stuff, so thank you. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. Please enjoy this chapter. **

* * *

"Morning, Yusuf," Ariadne greeted the Chemist on her way into the warehouse the next morning. Her mood seemingly better than the previous day.

"Oh, good morning!" Yusuf replied with a wide grin.

That was another thing the young Architect admired in Yusuf. He was always positive. There didn't seem to be many people like him in the buisness that she knew of.

"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked, giving a quick glance to his desk, occupied with a rather frightening amount of amber glasses.

"Oh, just tinkering around with the formulas," he explained. "I should have a decent combination to use tomorrow if you're interested?"

She hadn't really thought about going under since her small confrontation with the Point Man over the exact subject matter. However, she knew she needed to go under to show them the dreamscapes. Certain things cannot be avoided, no matter how long she tried to put it off.

After all, the bishop had to be tipped eventually.

"That would be good," she replied, with a small (if not slightly strained) smile. "See you later."

Sending him a quick wave, Ariadne began to retreat to her work area.

She began pulling off her jacket, her mind already racing with designs and paradoxes. However, when she walked through to her work space, she stopped.

Her desk was piled with fresh paper, brand new pens, pencils and professional drawing equipment. Some that would rival even what she used to use at the College. Down by the side of the desk, there were mountains of cardboard, styrofoam and plastic. New scissors and knives and rulers that would help her to create. A strange feeling of giddiness began to stir inside her, a mix of excitement and creativity. Like a kid on Christmas with brand new toys.

"Will it be enough?"

Ariadne looked behind her, and saw Arthur appear by her door, a content expression on his face.

Dumbstruck, she breathed, "What's all this?"

He leaned against the frame of her door, his arms tightly crossed around his chest. "I thought you might like some new supplies," he said, eyeing up the desk with some faint expression of pride.

Ariadne blinked, looking down at the seemingly endless array of new materials. "Yeah, _some. _Not enough to fund an entire art school!"

"You don't understand the concept of gratitude very well, do you?" he asked, giving her a small smirk of amusement.

"Oh no, I'm very grateful! But Arthur-" She turned, looking towards the Point Man, shaking her head. "I can't let you buy all this. I'm the Architect, at least let me give you some money-"

He cut her off. "Are you always this subborn?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.

Ariadne paused. His entertained eyes on her made her feel silly, hysterical even. "Yes."

A small smile spread on his face as he straightened himself from the doorframe. "Don't worry about it. Just design me something completely mind-blowing." With that, he turned and left the room, leaving her with the brand new contents of her desk.

* * *

_"She was lovely."_

_Ariadne grew quiet. A feeling of stupidity and foolishness washed through her. The projection she had encountered was not real. She was merely a memory. A shadow, a shade of a woman that once existed in these people's lives. Arthur began walking once more, his long strides making it harder for her to catch up._

_After a moment, he looked down, catching her strained face. _

_"It's okay, Ariadne. Most other people we've worked with have had bad enounters with her projection," he gently assured._

_The feeling of cold steel piercing her stomach repeated in her head. The cold eyes of the projection was nothing less than terrifying. "Always?"_

_"More often than none."_

_Ariadne shook her head. "How does Cobb live with that?" she asked, feeling a sudden overwhelming sense of sympathy for the Extractor. Seeing his loved one again and again, knowing she wasn't real. "Surely it must be tormenting him."_

_"That's why we're doing this job."_

_"Inception is difficult, from what I understand."_

_"Well, I know very few who have attempted it," he explained. "None of them ever made it work."_

_Ariadne looked up, confusion etching her features. "Then why are we trying it?"_

_"Because Cobb thinks we can," Arthur replied simply._

_"You think we have a shot?" she asked._

_It was a while before Arthur replied. Even when he did, it was not what she expected to hear from the ever-determined Point Man._

_"No. I don't." He looked down at her, his features strong. "But I'm willing to try."_

_"Cobb said that talking to projections is one of the ways you extract information."_

_"That's right."_

_Ariadne looked around them. It was strange, seeing people walking around them as if it were reality. Dressed normally, spoke normally, even acted normally. Although she could tell that something was off. They were too programmed. She waved her finger around them. "So, these are my projections?"_

_"Yep."_

_"It doesn't seem real," she mused._ _"They're so...robotic."_

_"Good. That's good," he nodded. "The more you can recognise the strangeness of the dream, the better you can get a grasp on things."_

_"What if I forget?" she asked, her voice suddenly much more timid. "What if-"_

_"The only way people begin to forget is if they are in the buisness for a long time." He reached out, and lightly touched her shoulder. Just briefly, before he let his arm fall again. "You won't lose yourself," he said softly._

_"How come you haven't done that?" she asked. "You've obviously been doing this for a long time."_

_"Cobb has kids. He has an attachment in reality," Arthur explained, his eyes flickering between projections. "When those things in reality begin placing themselves in dreams, that's where it gets dangerous. I don't have anything like that. For me it's just dreaming and reality. Two distinct worlds." Very quickly, his gaze fell to the ground, his jaw twitching slightly, before he held his head high once more. "I'm very lucky."_

* * *

It was noon when Arthur appeared at her door again. Only this time, instead of a proud smile, he wore a blank stare. "Ariadne."

"Hey," Ariadne greeted, leaning back into her chair. She offered him a smile, only to be denied of any reciprocation. Arthur simply stood over her desk, hard eyes flickering over her papers.

"Miles just called," he finally said, never turning his head up from the sketches. His voice was strange. Darker, deeper than it was when they had previously spoken. Ariadne couldn't help but feel like she was missing something, but couldn't find the emotional strength to consult it any longer. There were certain things that she would never work out with Arthur. She would never be able to figure him out by the way he stood, or the way he spoke, which bothered her incredibly.

Then she realised. _Shit. _Professor Miles called.

Miles, the man who helped her recover from her first job. Who seemed nothing less than relieved when she said that she wouldn't take another job. Who she'd lied to.

And now he was calling. More importantly, he was calling Arthur.

"Oh," she breathed, her shoulders tensing in anxiety.

Arthur lifted his head just a little, catching her eyes with his. "He says he wants to talk to you," he said softly.

Her eyes widened as she sat up. "He's coming here?" she repeated, her voice seemingly higher.

"No. I'll take you over to the College," he replied. Straightening his torso, Arthur stood over her desk, giving her a strained, but reassuring half-smile. "We shouldn't keep him waiting."

Ariadne nodded, and rose from her seat. It was a trip that she didn't want to go on, but had long seen it coming. Something quiet and hidden in the Point Man's voice made her think that she was not the only one who felt intimidated by the older man. It would make sense that even Arthur, the most contolled man she knew could feel unnerved by the infamous professor.

* * *

A very quiet car journey later, Ariadne found herself back at the College. It was almost nostalgic, seeing familiar faces. People she had worked with who were all just as good. They all had equal chances of being where she found herself now. But no, she was the one who was picked. While she had the strange, but rather honourable position of seeing what very few other people knew about, these people had no idea of the brilliant and impossible things that went on in the world around them.

Arthur vouched to stay by the car and wait. It was good, she thought. She could handle whatever Professor Miles had to say to her alone. Plus, she couldn't let Arthur get the back end of Miles' rath. It was her decision, her choice to come back.

As she walked back into the same old building, she kept her head down. She couldn't bear talking to anyone she used to know.

Walking through the hallways, a weird wave of familiarity hit her. A year ago, she would have had no idea. Not even a clue that Dom Cobb existed, or that she would be working with him one day. She would have no idea that designing dream worlds was even possible, or that there were such things as Forgers or PASIV's. Now she had been swept up in a whirlwind of creation and perhaps even danger, she couldn't believe how simple, how boring life was. It was safe, and bland. But she wouldn't have known. Ariadne would have been perfectly content in her basic lifestyle.

But the question of regret was something she couldn't even begin to consider now.

Stopping in front of an old door, Ariadne sighed. It was still the same. The glass was still shattered from a student fight years before she had arrived. How have they never had it fixed?

It was no less than a few weeks ago that she was sitting in this very room. Third row from the back, second seat along. Best view.

She gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was a large class, and there was almost a hollow emptiness about it now that it was vacant. The only other person in the space was the familiar professor. Miles sat behind his desk, his old, well-worn glasses perched on the end of his nose as he stared down into a mountain of paperwork.

"Professor?" she asked, the large, empty room echoing her timid voice.

Without looking up, Miles replied into the empty space, "_Miles, _Ariadne. You never were good at that."

"Sorry."

"Come in."

She began to walk down the steps, a strange feeling of childhood-like guilt overwhelming her. Cobb, she could keep her composure with. Even Arthur. But Professor Miles was a different story altogether. The incredible respect she had for the older man made it very difficult for her to ever lie to him. There was a reason that his classes always passed with flying colours, and that was because people _listened. _When Miles was in the room, people would sit down, shut up and listen to him. But still, during the first few months after the Fischer job, Ariadne had found great comfort in his advice and understanding. He'd reminded her of her grandfather that she'd lost not long before.

But that only made it more upsetting when she realised that this visit might not be for mere pleasantries.

When she'd reached the bottom of the steps, she stood in front of his desk, her arms behind her. "Am I in trouble or something?" She asked, her voice quiet and hesitant.

A heavy sigh errupted from the older man as he gave his hand a small, tired wave. "Please, I'm not your parent."

"Then, why am I-"

She was cut off as Miles leaned back into his chair, his hands clasped together and said, "Why did you decide to work with them again?"

"Well, I..."

The older man gave her a doubtful look. "After all the suffering you went through after the first job, I hoped that it would put you off the dream-sharing for eternity."

"I thought that too," she admitted, pulling on the ends of her sleeves nervously.

"What changed your mind, then?"

Ariadne's face strained into a small grimace. Nobody had ever made her feel so naive. "I don't know!" she sighed, collapsing into a seat. "It just...happened. I was very set on saying no. But then Arthur came and talked to me about it, and I-"

Miles gave a small tut, shaking his head. "Ah." He ducked his head down, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "_Women._"

As Ariadne realised what he was implying, she eyes widened as she suddenly sat forward, shaking her head defiantly. "No! Sir, it's not because of Arthur!"

"Don't lie to your elders," Miles scolded. A heavy sigh escaped him, as he reached up and tiredly began rubbing his temples. "I thought you were smarter than that, Ariadne. I thought you were one of the good ones. Someone with their head screwed on the right way."

"How would that decision make me any less smart?" she asked.

"I can't say I know everything, because I don't," Miles said. "But I do know some things about that boy. Some things that you wouldn't understand." "Do you really, and truly trust that man? Do _you_ really think he's safe?"

She thought about Arthur. Remembering what she'd seen. How she'd witnessed him skillfully and robotically take down projections, one by one. How intimidating and controlling he could be with a single look. And still, she'd never seen him unleashed. Express his build-up of anger and stress freely. Although she knew how frightening and possibly dangerous that might be, the idea still excited her in ways that she couldn't understand. Ariadne almost longed to see him like that.

But she wasn't frightened. There was a time when she may have thought she was, but she knew that he was harmless to her and the team. Particularly when they had spoken about it the previous night. Arthur had said, in his own words, that he wouldn't hurt her. And on her own whim, she honestly believed him.

She finally gathered up the breaths to speak. "I trust him." A small frown graced her face as she decided to confront the man before her. "With all due respect Sir, I don't think you know as much about these people as you say you do."

The older man's hands fell, as his sharp, grey eyes looked up and caught her in an authoritative stare. "Let me tell you something, young lady," he said. His voice grew quieter, and in doing so, became more stern. Ariadne grew silent once more as she sunk back into his seat. Miles slowly reached up, removed his glasses. It was almost painfully slow as he neatly folded the spectacles and placed them on his desk. Finally, he spoke. "I was once an Extractor."

Her eyes shot up, catching a glance at the professor in disbelief. "You were?" she echoed, sounding more bewildered than she'd hoped she'd reveal.

He nodded. "Yes. And not to toot my own horn, but I was rather good. They called me the best of my time."

"I had no idea," she quietly replied.

"Of course not. It's one of my best kept secrets. I went on for about 10 years before I met my wife."

"I'm guessing that made you want to stop."

"Exactly. But that proved harder than anticipated. They wouldn't let me go easy."

Her eyes grew wide and bright with curiosity and astonishment. "What happened?"

"I'll spare you the details. Let's just say I have a few scars that will never heal and a few limbs that will never be quite as strong." A small, weak smile grew on his face. "But I got out of it eventually, and we had Mal. Things seemed alright for a while."

Ariadne's eyes fell as she remembered. The beautiful, dangerous shade that she'd encountered more than enough times during the Fischer job. She couldn't picture the woman being a normal, loving person. A mother, a wife, a daughter. "But Mal. She-"

"Yes," Miles cut in. A sad, slow sigh echoed through the room. "Mal, my only child went and married Dom. The greatest Extractor to date."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Part of it was my fault. I did train him. I allowed Mal to get involved." He gave her a soft, sympathetic look. "And I sent you off to work for _them._"

"If you let Cobb and Mal to go into dream-sharing, then why aren't you letting me?" she asked, leaning forward. "Do you not think I'm good enough?"

"We have to know our limits," Miles muttered, his eyes flickering toward the window. An empty, thoughtful gaze out to the streets. "Before it's too late."

"I do know my limits. I'm not planning on this becoming a perminant thing," she explained, almost pleading.

"That's what I thought. That's what Dom and Mal thought." He turned his head, catching her eyes once more. "Yes, I understand. For a young, creative mind like yours, it's thrilling. But it's dangerous. The people you will get involved with are dangerous."

Ariadne gave a small scoff, before letting her arms fall. "The people on my team are not dangerous. Working with them is not a bad thing." Her voice was quickly rising, becoming almost frantic in her defence. A little voice in her head began yelling inside, telling her to shut up. She would be proved wrong eventually, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And then it came. "But falling in love with one of them is."

The response was so quick, so calm, so damn Arthur-like, that she grew silent almost instantly. Professor Miles continued to stare blankly at her, as if he had said nothing at all. Ariadne leaned back into her seat, feeling completely thrown. Like someone had slapped her around the face. Was it that obvious? Was she so transparent, so naive, that people just assumed the most extreme emotions upon her?

Ariadne let her gaze fall onto the ground, where she mindlessly gazed onto the wood of the floor for a while.

She certainly was not _in love _with Arthur. She knew that. But if she didn't get her act together, and try and act as professional as she should be, then that was where it was headed. And that could not happen.

Eventually, she grabbed her jacket in her hand and stood from her seat. She tried to ignore her weak, tired legs and looked up at Miles with strong shoulders. "I'm sorry but...if that's what you think I'm doing, then you are completely wrong."

Miles said nothing, simply continuing to look at her in a way that she found incredibly dominating. Turning, she began to walk back up the stairs swiftly, wanting nothing more than to get back to the warehouse.

Before she reached the door, she heard him speak. "I had high hopes for you, Ariadne," he called behind her. "Don't let them take your potential away from you."

Without turning her back, she continued to stride out of the room. "Goodbye, Miles."

She didn't leave because she was mad. She didn't leave because she thought he was wrong. She left because what Professor Miles had said, whatever that made be, was absolutely true. She was very close to falling for the Point Man. And that didn't matter, because she was a woman, and that's what women do sometimes. She couldn't help that she liked him.

What mattered was that if she fell, nobody would catch her.


	18. Chapter 18

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**I am so crabby right now. Trying out a new diet plan, and it sucks knowing that there are sweet, delightful sugary treats downstairs, and I can't touch them. I shall turn all my attention onto writing from this point on.**

* * *

Ariadne couldn't sleep. She was far too preoccupied with strange notions and constricting ideas to even try and get some needed hours.

Damn it. Damn _them._

It was nights like these that she wondered why she'd said yes. Not just to giving herself to the command of the team (again), but to everything. She could have said no, refused the first job and would never have known. Never have worried about all these things that were now burning away inside her. But of course, she had been too curious, too naive, and had wondered into the web of confusion, secrets and and brilliance that she was in now.

Men had never been a problem. Ariadne had always thought of herself as the type of girl who never bothered with such things. Always focusing on the bigger picture, such as school, family, money...but that had all changed now. There was a completely different picture that she had never been aware of. Dreams.

As she tossed and turned between the sheets, occasionally flipping the pillow with an annoyed huff, Ariadne reconsidered her plans.

If she was going to understand it herself, then she needed to keep things simple. Facts and figures, that's how Arthur would do it.

1. Finish the job.

2. Try and ignore the accusations of the other team-members.

3. _Do not_ fall for the Point Man.

But of course, things were easier said than done. And that thought alone was enough to keep her up half the night.

* * *

He had to be the first person she saw that morning. She had hoped that she could just hurry along to the hidden depths of the warehouse, hide for a considerable amount of the day, finish her work, and go home. But no, he was there. Standing in his particularly dashing light grey shirt and matching tie.

"Morning," Ariadne grumbled as she walked across the room.

Arthur was standing over his laptop, his face creased into a thoughtful expression. Upon hearing her, he lifted his head and gave her a quick nod. "Good morning."

She began walking over, trying to ignore the way her totem seemed heavy in her pocket. After much, (_much_) debate with herself that morning, she decided to bring it. After all, Yusuf had said that going under that day was a possiblity, and she would in no way be unprepared for this. But the weight of the object seemed just as heavy in her pocket as it was in her mind, and for a second, she wished that she'd had the guts to leave it at home.

Arthur then looked up, a hint of amusement on his face. "We have a visitor."

Ariadne looked behind her, and saw her dear friend Layton standing over Yusuf's desk. He seemed to take no notice of her presence, as he was far too busy standing over Yusuf, talking endlessly and pointing down at his work. Yusuf looked less than impressed with his antics, and rolled his eyes.

She turned, wearing a sulk. "Damn it," she muttered. "He's back." Her annoyance came out far more childish than she wanted it to.

"Don't worry. I believe Yusuf's getting the interrogation today."

She walked over and leaned against the side of the desk, her arms folded. Inhaling a small, but steady breath, she decided to bring the subject of dreaming up. She would rather go under with the Point Man on her first return back into the sleeping world. "Oh, by the way, Yusuf said we could go under today. Maybe I could show you the first level?"

Arthur's hands paused from their work for a moment, the slightest of seconds being held in the air, before he looked up. "Of course."

Despite the numerous preservations and accusations swimming in her head, Ariadne was pleased. Ever desperate for the chance to impress the Point Man with her work, she saw this as a new opportunity. A frightening and risky one, but an opportunity none the less. "Great," she said with a smile. "When would you have the time?"

"Now?"

She blinked, slightly taken back. "Sure."

Arthur shut the lid of his laptop, and moved across the room towards the two lawn chairs, sitting patiently on the side. The PASIV lay between them. Ariadne followed him, seeking a glance behind her at Layton and Yusuf, before turning back and making her own way over to one of the chairs, where she sat down and quietly waited for Arthur to lead the process. She watched as he opened the silver case and began working his way knowingly around the complex device.

Ariadne let her shoulders slump, and rested her hands on her knees. "I know it sounds weird, but do you ever get tired of it?"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised slightly in a quizzical look. "Lucid dreaming?"

"Yeah. I mean, you've been doing this for a while."

A quick process of thought flashed through his eyes. "Well," he began, turning his back. He worked quickly and efficientlyon the PASIV, his hands pulling the wires and setting the timer like it had done so many times before. "I don't always appreciate needles getting stuck in my arm all the time. And dying frequently isn't the most satisfying thing in the world."

Ariadne slid down on to the lawn chair, and began rolling up her sleeves. "Understandable."

"But, I love it," he continued. "I don't get to design the dreams, and I may not be able to forge into different people. But just being able to actually _do _the things we do is something that I've grown to be completely attached to. It's..." He tilted his head up, just catching her eyes with a knowing glance. "...Pure creation."

_There's nothing quite like it. _Ariadne let a smile grace her features. "Why do you think that you suited being a Point Man?"

He quirked an eyebrow, his expression becoming more amused. "Oh, you're interviewing me now?" His voice hinted teasing, and perhaps even the smallest traces of amusement.

She shrugged. "Just curious."

"I guess it was just something that I found the most interesting. It's just a matter of organisation and details."

"Doesn't it feel weird?" she asked. "Leaning so much about other people's personal lives?"

"At first, yes," he admitted. "But it's exhilarating at the same time. These people have secrets, and things they try and keep hidden. I learned how to unpick them." His shoulders shook lightly with a small, deep chuckle. "You would never believe some of the things I find out about these people."

"Like what?" she asked, her eyes bright and wondering.

"I couldn't say. I don't think your innocent mind could handle it," he replied, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Here."

As he held out a wire, Ariadne quietly took the needle. She looked down, twirling the scary-looking point between her fingers. Not one for injections of any kind, she felt a small grimace appear on her face. It had been a while, and she wasn't prepared to go poking around on her arm when she wasn't sure what she was doing. But at an attempt to try, she turned her wrist and eyed up the shiny pin against her pale skin.

A pair of hands softly grasped the wire from hers. She looked up, catching Arthur's gentle expression before he looked up. His eyes flickered across her face, a small sense of sympathy hidden behind his eyes.

Ariadne held out her wrist, her head falling and letting her hair fall around her face. "I'm still not used to this," she admitted.

"It's okay. It takes a while," he quietly assured.

Despite how hard she tried not to, Ariadne rather enjoyed the feel of Arthur's hands against her wrist. His hands were soft but undeniably rough and calloused around the edges. His years of work had taken their toll and made their marks. When his thumb brushed lightly against her pulse point, she felt a small tingle travel up to her shoulders. She barely felt the small sting of the needle against her skin.

As he pulled his hand away, she almost found herself missing the contact. She lay back, careful not to tug at the wire. "Thanks."

He slipped her a small, professional nod. "You're welcome."

Ariadne didn't see him connect himself to the machine, as she lay back and began breathing deeply. Her hands gripped around the arms of the chair as she listened carefully to the hissing sound of the PASIV. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. Fear? Excitement? Peace? Nerves?

Whatever it was, she had no time to contemplate, as she began to feel it. The gentle numbing of her body, while her eyes began to feel heavier. Before she knew it, the world was black.

* * *

Lucid dreaming just just as good as she remembered.

No... It was better.

A strange, numb feeling spread throughout her body and into her veins as she found herself standing in the middle of a hallway. Completely empty. It seemed that she was the only person in sight. She was extremely thankful that there were no projections in sight to throw her off. (Or rip her apart.)

The bright, sharp images of the dream were flawless. Everything seemed much clearer, and the sweet thought of knowing that the environment was completely under her control was enough to make Ariadne's heart beat a little faster. How could she have been scared of this? Quickly, she reached inside her pocket, and felt around until she could feel the smooth bronze of the bishop. She wasn't ready to test it yet, but having the feel, the weight of it in her palm was comforting enough.

Behind her, she could suddenly feel the strong presence of the Point Man. Another comfort in itself.

She looked over her shoulder, and was met with his tall, statuesque figure. He looked down, catching his brown eyes with her amber ones, filling her with the undeniable reassurance that he was there, and he would not be going anywhere else.

"How does it feel?" he asked, a small grin tugging at his lips.

She nodded, slowly. "It feels...good."

"Show me around."

Feeling proud, she took him through the layout.

Ariadne showed him the entire dreamscape that she had creating within the space of a few days. On paper, things seemed normal, average. But now, the clean and crisp images of the dream world made everything look beautiful, and her designs were instantly brought to life.

Most of the casino dreamscape had been inspired by Eames and their field-trip. She remembered what he'd told her about the feel of the room, and the layout. Hidden hallways were lead into by exists, and secret paradoxes lined the scape, ready and waiting to be used. Admittedly, Ariadne was rather proud of what she had created.

She showed him the different paths they could take in order to avoid projections. Where the weakest and strongest structures were. Where Eames' projection of Harvey would talk to his brother; a private booth in the corner of the room.

As they stood in the centre of the room, Arthur turned to her, an approving glance in his eyes. "This is brilliant, Ariadne."

Feeling bashful, Ariadne reached behind her and rubbed the back of her neck. "I still need to tweak some stuff."

"Don't be modest. Believe in your designs." A smile ghosted across his lips as he gestured to the bar. "Let's get a drink."

She lead him to the bar, which was inspired by the very place that Eames and her had sat and drank. She'd added her own touches of course, including lower seats that would be much easier for her petite form to sit on. Again, projections seemed scarce, but Ariadne could only think that after years of lucid dream, Arthur probably had an extremely firm control on his subconcious. She wasn't complaining. Sliding onto a stool, she watched as Arthur made his way around to behind the bar, and skillfully placed down two glasses.

"Cobb would be proud of your talent." As he began pouring drinks into the glasses, Ariadne watched his movements with fascination.

"Thanks," she replied. "Ditto."

As he handed her a glass, she was relieved to see that it was a perfectly safe and subtle glass of white wine. It looked light and incredibly appealing, but she looked at the glass, staring at the liquid.

Arthur caught it. His brow deeped (just enough for her to catch) and flicked his eyes across her face. "Everything okay?"

"Will...will I be able to taste this?"

The minute smile returned, as he gave his shoulders the smallest of shrugs. "You tell me."

She looked down. Staring into the glass, she eyed the liquid suspiciously for a while, until she realised that the Point Man was still watching her, waiting for a verdict. She reached forward, brought the glass to her lips and drank. It was indisputable. The sweet taste of the drink was familiar on her tongue and gave the back of her throat a pleasant tingle.

Ariadne looked at Arthur in astonishment. "That's amazing."

"You're subconcious is filling in the gaps. What things taste like, smell like, even what they feel like. Your memory is reconstructing the taste." He held up his down glass, a darker and more dangerous looking drink that Ariadne wouldn't dare try. "You would not be able to taste this, for example."

"I'm not a drinker."

"I thought not." His reply was blunt, and he cast his eyes across the room, deflecting all attention away from her.

Ariadne cringed. "Am I really that dorky?"

"Not at all. Trust me, I know drinkers. Social, snobby buisness men who must have a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, trust me. Those are drinkers."

She gave her a head a little shake, thinking of all the people that Arthur would have had to put up with on the duration of his jobs. "I can't imagine all the people you must have met over the years."

"Neither can I, sometimes."

"What was Eames first like, when you met him?"

"Absolutely no different."

A small laugh escaped her. "Really?"

"Really. He was always and forever will be, Eames the Forger."

"What about Cobb?"

"I guess he was just a little easier going. A little calmer with life. A little more wild, perhaps." His dark eyes lowered down to his glass, staring blankly into the drink. "But of course, after what he's been through, it's understandable that he wouldn't be the same."

"Don't you believe that a person can be happier?" she asked, a defiance n her voice. "Cobb said that positive emotion trumps negative everytime."

"I disagree."

"Why?"

"I just don't believe that a person can be the same after something as awful as Cobb did. Things like that stick to you forever." He spoke carefully, as if with a young child. Ariadne had always noticed that he spoke with the wisdom of someone twice his age, but this was different. There was a hidden depth to his voice, something that she couldn't place.

She ran her hand across the edge of the table, suddenly feeling out of her comfort. "But don't you think that a person can become happier? Forget about all the bad things?"

"You can try and get over it, but the fact is that it's always there." He looked back at her, a stubbornness in his eyes. The air hung thick between them, like a silent challenge. "What makes you so certain that things are easy to forget?"

The Architect shrugged lightly. "I don't know...I just have a little more faith, I guess."

Arthur looked back at her, his hard face stern and unmoving. There was a gap of silence between the two, before he finally spoke. "We'll just have to agree to disagree."

_...Non, rien de rien..._

It took all Ariadne had not to let out a shudder. That music had been a heavy sorce of her discomfort for the previous several months. Living in Paris, there was certainly no shortage of Edith Piaf. It seemed like everytime she went into a store, a cafe, or even just walking down the street with the projection-like citizens, she would hear them. The loud, haunting echoes of the trumpets and the faint voice, calling to her. Warning her. But of course, they were always either pure coincidence, or a figment of her stressed imagination.

Now, it was real.

She looked across the table, trying to conceal the blind panic in her eyes. She had not thought this through. It had thrown her by simply going under in the first place, but dying? Surely that would be pushing the limits on her already fragile mind.

Arthur caught it and acted accordingly, and reached a slow hand to the inside of his suit jacket. His eyes flicked back to hers, softer, understanding of her sudden anxiety. "How do you want to go?"

_...Non, je ne regrette rein..._

She knew what he meant. All she needed to see what the brief flash of the threatening metal of his gun. Of course he would have one while he was with her, she thought. He trusted no-one.

The idea of being crushed to death by the crumbling structure around them did not appeal in the slightest, and Ariadne let her eyes roam to his hand, which was hovering by his weapon. Waiting.

"Can you?" Her voice seemed far too quiet to sound even the slightest bit confident.

Arthur nodded, and she watched as he grasped the gun with a strong, steady hand. "Of course."

She let her eyes fall down to the table-top, knowing that she couldn't bear the image of the Point Man brandishing a gun towards her head.

_...Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait..._

Her ears pricked up as she heard the click of the gun safety in front of her.

There was no hesitation as the gunshot seemed to ring in her ears for the slightest of seconds, before the whole world went dark.

Dark, and peaceful.

* * *

The first thing Ariadne felt when she woke in reality was a numbness.

A numbness, then a sudden rush of violation. As if unwelcome eyes were on her.

Her eyes shot open as she sat up in a rush of instinct, (she tried to ignore the sudden sharp pain in her arm) and instantly fell on the image of a very unwelcome pair of eyes, indeed.


	19. Chapter 19

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thanks very much to all those who reviewed. It's been very hard to write recently, and I thank you all so much for the little pushes you've been giving. Please, enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you thought. **

**I know this is very short, and it was going to be longer. But the direction I was planning to take with it just didn't flow right at all. I'll make it up to you with a super long chapter next time.**

* * *

It was times like this when Ariadne found herself completely clueless as to what her next move was.

So she sat completely still, her hands still gripped around the sides of the chair, just as tightly as they were before she went under. She felt frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights as she saw the sneaky figure of Layton standing over her. Unnaturally close. The pain in her arm had subsided, but she began to feel a small trickle of moisture (_blood?_) run down her wrist. But she couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the looming figure above her.

Didn't this guy have anything better to do? From the beginning, she didn't like thim, but this was stepping on new territory. Under no circumstances would she ever appreciate the way he was looking down at her, his eyes darkened, with almost frightening shadows cast of his face from the streaming light of the windows. It was then that Ariadne wished more than anything that Arthur would wake up already.

But by the time she had the breath of open her mouth and say something remotely intimidating, Arthur had appeared at her side, her forearm in his gentle, but firm grasp. Her eyes flickered over to meet his, but he was already occupied. Ariadne swallowed. The Point Man was kneeling beside her, working swiftly on removing the piercing needle from her skin, all while staring up at Layton. (_How the hell did he manage to remove the wire without even looking?_)

It was then that Ariadne realised that she did not want to be in the middle of this at all. She would have prefered to get up and leave Arthur to deal with this, but she couldn't tear herself away. It was far too interesting. As soon as the pesky needle had been removed, she watched Arthur rise from the floor. They must have roughly been the same height, but Arthur seemed to tower over Layton with his famous stance. His dark eyes shot coldly towards the other man. Wordless. Deadly. Nothing less than protective instinct for the young woman. At least, that's what she thought it was. She watched in astonishment, and a little amusement, as Layton tried to hold his own, but slowly began to cumble against Arthur's hard glare.

Ariadne found that she took a quick intake of breath as Arthur began speaking. "Can _I help you_ with something?" It almost sent a shiver up her spine. Such a cold, but controlled tone. It was bewildering; spoken so normally, but sounding so intense and dark. A hidden threat obvious behind the words.

Layton wavered. "I'll be back tomorrow for the rest of Mr Walton's information." He more or less mumbled the statement, before snapping his head to the floor and swiftly moving on. Ariadne didn't turn her head as he brushed past her view, as she was far too interested with Arthur's expression. His dark eyes continued to watch the man as he walked straight out. It wasn't until Ariadne heard the echo of the door, that Arthur even turned his head.

Miraculous. Not even a trace of the threatening expression as he looked at her. Ariadne let out a quiet breath as she watching his eyes move down, narrowing slightly when they caught her arm.

"You're bleeding." Again, his voice was soft. Quieter than before. It was almost a relief- she found that she prefered _her _Arthur, as opposed to the man she'd just witnessed come alive.

Ariadne blinked, before casting her eyes down. "Oh..." He was right. Just over her wrist, there was a cut, a tear in the skin about half an inch. Blood trickled down her hand. "Must have yanked the needle or something. No big deal."

Pushing herself up from the chair, she found it the perfect excuse to disappear into the bathroom to compose herself, but instead, two firm hands on her arms held her down in place. She let herself be sat up on the seat by Arthur's strong hands.

He gave her a stern look. "Stay. I'll be right back," he instructed. He walked away, leaving her for a moment. She looked down, watching the small trails of blood run down towards her palm. Lucky for her, she'd never had any particular issues with injury. A childhood of broken limbs and numerous trips to the ER due to her clumziness had prepared her for things such as this.

When he returned, she saw that he was holding the First Aid Kit between his hands. He returned by her side and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

"Here." Reaching out, he gently grasped her wrist and turned it over. She watched as he ran his eyes over the cut, before reaching into the First Aid. When he pulled out, she saw that he was holding a cotton pad, with which he began to wipe away the blood, gently and slowly. "Are you always this clumsy?" he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

She nodded, weakly. "Pretty much. Sorry."

"Don't worry. It's not deep." He looked back up, his eyes gently grazing over her face. A soft, assuring smile appeared. "Blood makes everything look scarier." When she let her eyes fall back down to the cut, all the blood had been cleaned away, leaving nothing but a pink line down her wrist. She allowed him to wrap it with a bandage, before he rubbed the spot softly with his thumb. Only once, before he pulled away again, turning his back to her.

She examined his handy-work. "Thank you."

Looking up, she caught Arthur's gaze upon her. "Listen to me." He said, wrapping his hand around her arm once more, his fingers gently wrapping around her forearm. As she looked up, she found her eyes locking against his. "If _anyone_ bothers you again, just find me. I'll deal with it."

Ariadne found that she could do nothing but nod in response. "Okay."

Arthur gave her a small nod, and rose from his seat, turning to the desk behind them. He began packing away the First Aid, and Ariadne couldn't even begin to consider any double meaning to what he said before he spoke again. Never turning as he asked her.

"May I ask you something?"

"You may."

He turned, just over his shoulder, his face twisted into a thoughtful expression. "After the Fischer job, did you not consider...you know." She narrowed her eyes. Catching her unsure gaze, he continued. "Trying to find your way into other Extraction teams? Other jobs?"

She sighed, and found herself biting her bottom lip. She had to be honest. "I thought about it. But after a while, I realised that it wasn't the most sensible idea."

Arthur nodded, appovingly. "That's probably the best idea. If you get hooked in with the wrong people, things can get a little sketchy."

Her lip upturned into a small smirk. Folding her arms together, she challenged him. "Oh, and what makes you so different?"

"Not everyone's as nice as me, Ariadne. You could get yourself into trouble," he explained. "It's so easy to take advantage of people in this buisness. Particularly someone younger, like yourself."

Ariadne paused. Although he always had the gentlest ways of explaining things, she still found herself at a blank. He seemed to be coddling her, like a child once more. And people like herself hated being treated like that all of the time. It wasn't healthy. Whilst she enjoyed his company, and the comfort that he brought with it, the silent suggestion that she could be taken advantage of so easily couldn't help but insult her slightly. Things like that had always begun to make her feel dejected- one of her greatest weaknesses. But did this mean that he was concerned for her? Cared for her well-being? Surely the Point Man would have far more important things on his mind.

She finally managed to speak. "Well...it was a good thing I didn't, then."

"Yes." He was silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating with himself. It was a while before he spoke once more. "If you want to continue working after this...then you can contact me. I'd rather direct you on this, than allow you to be pulled in with random people."

Quickly, Ariadne began to feel overwhelmed. The prospect of other jobs already? No, she couldn't. This was only supposed to be a one-time offer. One last fling with the dream world before she returned to the normal lifestyle for good.

Knowing that she couldn't instantly deny his offer, she looked at the ground, avoiding his eyes. "That's very considerate."

"Just think about it." His reply was quiet, hesitant almost. "I know I'm kind of drawing out the negatives, but don't forget that we can do these things for good."

"Like getting Cobb back to his kids."

"Exactly."

Her head snapped up, a new and sharp curiosity hitting her. "Have you met his children?"

For the smallest of moments, Arthur looked a little thrown-off. Of course, she had no idea of whether this would or would not be a touchy subject for him, but he inwardly composed himself and replied carefully. "When they were very young. I doubt they would remember me so well."

"What are they like?"

She watched as he rested his hands on the table, and just managed to spot the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of his lips. "Well, Phillipa is like Cobb. Last time I saw her, she was a very subborn and strong-willed child." He let the smile spread a little furthur with the remembrance of old memories. "James is more like Mal. He would share his toys, rather than keep them to himself. But he looks exactly like his father."

Ariadne looked down once more, and began picking the small strands of her scarf. "Did you know Mal well?"

"Only when we were working together. A few times."

"Cobb loved her very much."

He looked up, his dark eyes filled with interest. "Why do you say that?"

"When she appeared in the dream. It was the way he looked at her. He just seemed so..." She searched for the word. "Broken."

Silence filled a space between the two of them. Ariadne watched Arthur, as his eyes flickered from phase to phase. Understanding. Agreement. Regret?

"We should probably get to work," he finally said.

After realising that the conversation had most definitely ended, she brushed a hair behind her ear. "Yeah." She stood up, finding her balance after sitting down for a while. She sent a small, appreciative nod his way. "Thanks."

He let himself smile slightly. She wondered sometimes if she would ever see the day when he gave her a _real _smile. "For what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. A lot, I guess." She then slipped him a small grin, before turning and walking away, leaving him with the PASIV.


	20. Chapter 20

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**I love you all. If I could buy you all wonderful gifts, I would. But that would cost dozens of pounds in shipping and postage, so instead, you'll have to settle on a step-up of AxA. As always, enjoy reading, and I hope you let me know what you think of this chapter.**

**I expect the next update will be just after Christmas.**

* * *

She tipped her totem that night. Somehow, sleep evaded her, and all she could think of was the rumble of music in the air. The click of Arthur's gun as he prepared to kick her from the dream. And for some reason, the only way that she could think to settle her racing mind was to test it. Test the stability of her reality. It was in the early hours of the morning that she climbed from her bed, rumaged through her jeans, and found her bishop. For some reason, she'd found no need to use it in the day.

As she held it between her fingers, she realised that it was rather beautiful. Pride consumed her as she watched the gold shine against the faint moonlight sweeping in from her window, and she let it rest in her palm for a while. She remembered the feel so clearly. The weight. The smooth, solid shape of the game piece.

Placing it on the edge of her desk, she bent down to it's level and watched it for a moment. Wondering if this was the right choice. Several months of restraint and control wasted. Was it worth it?

But the uncertainty consumed her, and remembering the dream of the day had only made it worse. So she reached across, and tipped it.

She was pretty sure that the small _thunk_ of the gold hitting the table top was the most wonderful sound she'd heard in months.

* * *

Ariadne stood over her desk, frowning down at the designs. If only Eames had come back, she would be able to show him and Arthur the second level. But of course, she had to wait. She had arrived early at the warehouse that morning. Far earlier than Arthur or Yusuf. But she didn't mind the quiet. In fact, sometimes she found that her creativity depended on the peace of the environment around her. She scanned the blueprints, tweaking and fixing small errors that she noticed. Always changing, always developing the dreamscape in new ways. Moving forward was the one thing she knew.

"Morning, doll."

Ariadne lifted her head and felt a tingle of disappointment run through her.

"You don't seem to have anywhere else to be, do you?" she asked Layton, her voice bitter.

Layton chuckled deeply, and began walking into her work space. "Nah'."

She watched him hover by the side, his eyes on her. Quickly, she began to feel more uncomfortable than she wanted. Clearing her throat, she turned her eyes down to her work. "Well, I have work to do, so if you don't mind..."

A large, arrogant smirk spread across Layton's face. "Of course I don't mind."

"Go away," she snapped. She'd had enough of him already. But unfortunately, he did not go away. Instead, he began moving forward. Slowly, and carefully, as if he were stalking his prey. Ariadne swallowed.

"How are you going to make me?" he asked, his voice taunting.

"I-"

She was against the table then. The hard wood pressing tightly against her hips as she felt herself being pushed back. Looking up, she saw Layton's dark, ravinous eyes just inches away from hers. A strong sent of cheap cologne quicky stung her nostrils, and she found that she couldn't budge from the spot she was in. He wasn't as big as some of the other men she'd seen, but she was small enough for him to overpower her.

Instinct kicked in as she realised what was happening. She began pushing her hands against his chest, but with no avail. "What the hell are you- stop!"

An awful smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. "Come on, we both know you like it."

Ariadne narrowed her eyes and glared deeply into his. "Get the hell away from me. Now."

But he didn't. He only continued to stare down at her, his eyes darkened with lust.

So she did the only thing that she could do at that point. Defend herself. Attack. Quickly and suddenly, she reached her hand up, and sent it flying across his face in a satisfying slap. The surprise clearly fazed him, as he stumbled back, his hand flying up towards the targeted cheek. "-Ah!"

Ariadne found the chance to run, as she pushed herself away from the desk. But her small spark of freedom only lasted a moment, before she found herself being pushed back again, harder than before. Stranger hands began making their way down to her waist as she squirmed underneath his touch.

It was awful. The feeling of such weakness and frailness against _this man_ was humiliating to Ariadne. No, she could not allow him to cause this sense of fragility. Burning, but useless anger coursed through her veins as she continued to push against him. But of course, she was no match for the taller, and unfortunately stronger man. She couldn't even think about what he might do to her. All she could focus on what fighting back at that very moment. She could feel his hands at her waist, one trailing behind her and tightly grasping just below her ass.

A shock was sent up her spine. Never before had she felt this violated, and it caused an anger unlike anything she'd ever felt. "Arthur will _kill_ you," she spat, believing every fibre of the word.

Layton scoffed. "Please, beautiful. _You_ work for _us_."

Then she heard it. The faint, but distinct creak of the door on the other side of the warehouse. Relief ran through her veins as she realised that she was no longer alone.

Summoning her breath, she gave a loud cry. "Arth-" A harsh hand clamped over her mouth tightly.

"Shut up," he snapped, lowering his face towards hers.

With one hand against her mouth, and the other slipping from her waist, Ariadne pushed forward and managed to free herself from his grasp. Layton stepped backwards, and let his face transform into a cold glare. It was then that she regretted what she'd just done. He looked up, anger flashing in his eyes as he stepped forward again, his arm slowly raising, ready to strike.

Too cornered to run, and too shocked to move, Ariadne quickly squeezed her eyes shut and fliched away, preparing for the no-doubt painful blow.

It never came. Instead, a sickening thud and a small gasp of pain echoed through the room. Ariadne's eyes snapped open, only to see that Arthur was now standing in front of her, his back close to her, creating a firm barrier between her and the other man. She peaked over his shoulder and saw Layton's stumbling figure cursing into the ground. A fresh trail of blood ran from his nose.

She couldn't see Arthur's face, but for some reason, she found that she didn't want to. The tense muscles of his shoulders and the clentching of his fists were a firm warning that he was pissed. Far more so than she wanted to witness. Whatever his face was like on the other side must not have been a kind sight.

A few seconds past before he spoke. It was frightening. "Get out."

She all but jumped at his voice. It was darker than she'd ever heard. Dangerously threatening.

Layton's frantic protests filled the room. "I don't think you-"

"Save it. Get out of here. Now."

Layton turned his head up slightly. His eyes narrowed, challenging. "Or what?"

Arthur's frame took the smallest of steps forward, enough to make Ariadne push herself back into the desk slightly. "Or you can go home and tell your boss that we quit," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "I don't want to see your face around here again. Ever."

Silence fell across the room. The air hung thick with tension between them, each man _daring _the other to press.

Eventually, it was Layton that cracked under Arthur's glare. He didn't even glance at Ariadne, as he snapped his head to the floor and began to stomp out. Ariadne didn't dare move until the reassuring slam of the warehouse door was heard. She turned her attention forward, watching Arthur's still tense figure stare into the space. She wanted to reach forward, and calm him. But she couldn't find the courage. Instead, she waited until his shoulders slowly fell, his muscles relaxing under the quiet.

He then turned. Ariadne froze as he tilted his head slightly, his features creasing into a worried gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Ariadne didn't even have time to think about what she had just witnessed before she felt her already weak knees give out from under her. She could feel herself sway forward, artfully stopped by a pair of gentle hands on her shoulders. The reassurance was wonderful; he was there. He was there, and as cliche as it sounded, she hadn't felt so safe in the longest time. Uncaring, she leaned forward, pressing the side of her face into his hard chest. There was hesitance on his part, she noticed. But soon, she felt his strong arms wrap around her petite shoulders, holding her against him. Reaching around, she grabbed the fabric of the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life, as if it were the only thing keeping her up.

She felt his warm breath against her hair. "It's okay." It was nothing more than a whisper, but it was comforting to levels that she couldn't even understand. But that didn't seem to matter to her at that moment. "I'm sorry. I should have been here."

Unwillingly, a small, dry laugh escaped her lips. "You would turn the blame on yourself for this, wouldn't you?" Sighing, she pressed her face deeper against his torso. "You were right. I'm too weak for this."

Soon, she wasn't being held against him anymore. As she looked up, she saw his stony face inches from hers, his sharp eyes searching her face. His hands remained still against her shoulders. "When did I ever say you were weak?"

His voice was demanding, commanding. The type of voice that he probably used with his Point Man facade, but never with her. She found herself speechless. "I..."

Her voice faded out as she watched him give a small, disapproving shake of the head. "You're strong, Ariadne. Stronger than you think."

"It's just..." How could she explain this to _him? _Arthur- the epitome of strength and confidence. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a useless person. The deadweight of the group."

A frown flickered silently across his face, before he turned his head down. His hand fell from her arm, and firmly grasped her wrist. "Come with me."

Without anytime to respond, Ariadne found herself being pulled from her work space, through the door, and into the center of the warehouse. He continued to pull her towards the lawn chairs, where the PASIV sat, waiting. Ariadne didn't pull away, simply allowing herself to be directed by the Point Man.

As he pulled her over, his hands found their way back onto her shoulders, and gently pushed her down onto a seat. "Sit," he commanded.

Dumbstruck, Ariadne obeyed and watched as he began working his magic on the device, opening the silver case and tugging out the various wires. He turned, reached out, and gently grasped her wrist once more, turning it over.

"Arthur-"

He looked up, catching her eyes with his, effectively cutting her off. "Trust me."

Silenced, Ariadne did nothing but watch as he slowly rubbed his thumb against the skin of her pulse, before painlessly inserting the needle. She continued to stare aimlessly as he did the same to himself, before directing his gaze towards her. Out of nothing but routine and memory of the process, she began to lay back, resting her hand by her side.

The small hiss of the machine just had time to alert her, before the gentle numbness was once again returning to her body, making everything go quiet.

So beautifully quiet.

* * *

Ariadne found herself in a large, white room. Although on closer inspection, she discovered that it was in fact, a gallery of sorts. A little too modern for her taste, but something that she found to be rather suited to Arthur's subconcious.

After trailing through several rooms (trying to avoid scatterings of projections), she finally caught sight of the Point Man.

She found him in an empty room, sitting on a bench on the side, his hands clasped together over his knees. Waiting.

Hovering by the entrance for a few moments, Ariadne found herself nibbling on her bottom lip. He seemed quiet, more so than usual. It hardly seemed like the time or place to disturb him, but still, he was the one that dragged her under. Whatever he wanted her for, she would need to listen. Pulling back her shoulders, Ariadne slowly began walking through the hollow room towards where he sat.

"Arthur?" she asked. Her voice was timid.

There was a gap of silence, before he began speaking without prompt. "I'd been good friends with Harvey since I was twelve. Not so much with Andrew."

Ariadne was quiet for a moment, wondering why he had decided to talk about this particular topic at this particular time. But then again, she knew that he was a closed-off person, and anything was better than nothing, even if it was just a jigsaw piece of the man inside the clouded exterior. She walked over, and sat down on the other side of the bench (leaving a distinct space between them), and turned her gaze down to the ground. "I thought not."

His gaze switched to her, his eyes dark and thoughtful as they flickered across her face. "When I found out that it was him that we were to extract from, I couldn't. I didn't want to. I've rarely said no to a client."

"Then why did you agree?"

"Lots of reasons," he replied quietly. "But one of them was you."

Ariadne blinked. "Me?"

"During the Fischer job, I saw how you treated Cobb. You helped him. You had no obligation or reason to, but you did. You just about saved him."

She shrugged lightly. "I did it for the team."

"I have my problems with this job. But I knew that because you were the Architect, perhaps you'd help me out the same way you did with Cobb. Cobb didn't pick you because you were talented. He picked you because you were strong, and he knew you were able to do this. I have the same faith in you. Right now, I need you to stay that way."

Ariadne looked down. It was hard. Arthur wanted her help, and she wanted to stay as far away from dream-sharing as possible. The two contrasts were simply never going to collide. One thing would have to be sacrificed.

Could she really deny Arthur the help that he needed? She knew how, and it was in a way that she very much wanted to avoid. But she knew deep down that really, she never had a choice.

She straightened herself, and rose from her seat before turning and looking down at him. "I'm going into the dream with you. I want to be part of this extraction."

Arthur's eyes flickered up, his brow furrowing just enough for her to notice. "That's not what I was asking."

She nodded. "I know. You asked me to think about it, and I did. I'm going under."

Sighing, the Point Man shook his head, before standing from his own seat, just a few steps away from her. "I can't stop you, can I?"

She shook her head, and gave him a small, amused hint of a smile. "No." Then she said probably the most risky thing she'd ever said to another person. Something that she had no belief to be true. But she couldn't contain herself. "I can handle it."


	21. Chapter 21

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Just something to keep you all hanging on until after Christmas. Enjoy!**

* * *

Harvey Walton never particularly liked the taste of whiskey. He thought it was an old man's drink, and something that never really took to his taste buds. But often, certain circumstances called for a little kick. And this was most certainly one of those times.

He lay one of his hands on his old, wooden desk, and twisted a glass of amber liquid around in the other. A heavy sigh caused his shoulders to fall, giving him a down-trodden, tired look about him.

Since when did things become so complicated? There was a time in his life where everything was in perfect order. The company was in full bloom, and his family life couldn't have been better. But now things seemed to have turned, and although public-eye buisness men such as him should stay away from such things as dream-sharing criminals, it seemed that times had turned that desperate. Things like these were necessary.

He'd be damned if he said that he didn't hate himself for doing this to his own brother. But passing it along without any justification would just be one big 'fuck you' to the old man. His father (God rest his soul), who'd spent most of his life creating and developing this company to it's finest, would not want it all to be thrown away in a mere whim towards gambling and drinking. Despite himself, Harvey knew that he couldn't trust his brother again. Not after...certain complications.

Leaning back, the man reached into one of his desk drawers, and produced a long-time hidden packet of cigarettes. His guilty pleasure. Shuffling around for a lighter, he managed to find one that just was in working order, before flicking the flame and lighting a smoke. He brought it to his lips, inhaled, and blew out the smoke in a welcoming cloud around him.

Arthur. Dear, poor, brilliant Arthur. Or as he was known, a Point Man. Harvey really had no idea what that was, but he guessed that it must have been important for Arthur to have qualified.

When he heard his name in the search for an Extraction team, he hadn't been all that surprised. Knowing Arthur since a young age, Harvey understood that he was a far more surperior mind than most of the kids they knew. He was smart, and wise-enough to just keep on the good side of things.

But then there was the ever complex issue of wondering. Questioning. Would it be right to involve Arthur in a case this personal? After all those years?

Harvey remembered the shock he felt. The disappointment, almost. Seeing Arthur, his old friend as such a...robot. Like everything had been sucked out of him, leaving nothing but a man in a suit. The world didn't need another one of those. Of course, he was still confident, still controlled, but it seemed like everything had been increased to the extreme. He couldn't for the life of him understand the dream buisness if he tried. How was it that they were modelled and moulding into perfect working machines like Arthur, and behind him, trail little girls of bright colours and creative minds just like the young Architect that was with him?

She had been so young, Harvey recalled. Couldn't have been just a few months out of College. Christ.

How did someone like her get involved in dream-sharing? Into this...corporate scandal? Did she even want to be there? Did Arthur approve? Did _he _even want to be there?

So many questions. More than he knew the answers to.

Not that he even had the time to find out the answers, because as always, the clock was ticking. The fate of his company, his relationship with his brother, and most importantly, the welfare of everyone around him was about to be tested. Now that the cards were on the table, things were certainly about to get more interesting. And all because he'd just recieved a phone call.

A phone call, explaining that his brother Andrew had decided to take a work-break. Not that he ever did any work, anyway. But that didn't matter. Arthur had told him to inform him of any passing chance in which the Extraction could take place. Well, if there was any time good enough, this was it.

Removing the cigarette from his lips, Harvey sighed. He quickly stubbed it out in the ashtray beside him, and reached forward to grasp his phone. After punching in the number written on a small piece of paper, he brought it to his ear and waited for the dial tone.

It was a mere two rings before he could hear Arthur's voice on the other line.

_"Harvey."_

"Yeah, Art...it's me," the man sighed, rubbing his hand once over his face. "...It's time."


	22. Chapter 22

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Hope you all had a lovely Christmas. Please enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you thought. We're really picking up the AxA now, guys. I feel like I've been teasing you all for long enough.**

* * *

Ariadne found herself rather excited to go into work the next morning. Knowing that she would be going under gave her something to work towards. Soemthing that made her feel like she was that little bit more useful towards the team and the bigger picture. Perhaps she would divert a few projections, or even come so close as to saving one of her friend's lives? Seomthing like that would make her feel like she'd earned her place more so than she already had.

However, as she entered the warehouse that morning, she was met with a wave of rush and organisation, something that she hadn't expected. Normally, Yusuf would be in his little corner tinkering away with his compounds, while Arthur would be sat at his desk, rifling through the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and information.

This morning, Ariadne walked in and she found Yusuf cramming little jars into a small box, his face a portait of hurry and slight panic. She also saw Arthur packing all his documents and belongings into boxes, working quickly. She couldn't help but notice that the PASIV was nowhere to be seen.

After hovering for a moment, she walked in, and made her way towards Arthur. "Hey," she greeted, flinging her jacket onto the nearest chair. "What's going on?"

Upon hearing her voice, Arthur straightened, pausing from his work. His sharp eyes flickered across her face for the smallest of moments. "I just recieved a call from Harvey last night. It's time."

It was time? Already? Ariadne shifted from foot to foot. For some reason, the idea that they had to move already was very unsettling. She felt Arthur's eyes upon her, watching and waiting for her reaction.

"Oh," was all she could manage. "...What's happening?"

After a split second, he turned his back and resumed his work. "Andrew Walton's taking a little vacation from work. With him out of the public eye for a while, now's our chance to move."

Ariadne bit her lip, as the stirring in her stomach seemed to increase. "But...we're not ready. I thought you said we would have more time."

It was then that he stopped altogether. It seemed that she did not hide the uncertainty in her voice as much as she wanted to.

"I thought we did. But if we don't move now, then we might not get a chance like this again for a while."

"But...I haven't even taught Eames the dreamscape for his level. He won't know what to do."

"I find myself a little offended by that comment, missy."

Ariadne turned. There, in the flesh once again, was Eames, standing just behind her with a wide grin on his face. "You know that I can do anything."

She found a smile spread slowly across her lips at the welcomed sight of the Forger. "When did you get back?"

"This morning."

Arthur's voice cut in, obviously ever desperate to keep things in a timely order. "You can teach him his level when we get there."

Ariadne watched him, her eyes bright with a quizzical expression. "Get where?"

His reply was quick. "New York." Turning, he caught her eye once more, a small comforting gesture. "If I were you, I'd start packing up. We've got a flight to catch."

She nodded, and quickly moved towards her work space and her designs.

* * *

Ariadne all but slammed the door to her apartment when she returned, her brand new faux identification papers held tightly in her hand. Passport, tickets, and even a credit card, all filed under her new identity for the remainder of this job.

Two hours. That was all she had before she should make her way to the airport for their flight. It didn't seem like long, but then she remembered, that she'd had even less time to pack for the Fischer job. Funny how things work out like that.

Tugging off her jacket, she let it fall carelessly to the floor, before pushing herself towards her bedroom.

Panic began whirring though her brain, along with a rush of questions that she felt stupid for not knowing the answer to at a time like this.

How long would they be there for? Where were they staying? Should she bring her designs onto the plane, or wait until they get to the hotel?

In a daze, she began throwing things into her suitcase, never stopping to fold or pack properly. As she transferred armfuls of clothing into her case, a wave of unpleasent thoughts ran through her mind. There was always the possibilty of something going wrong. What if something were to happen to them? What if there was a chance, no matter how small, that she wouldn't come back at all? The thought alone was enough to send sickening nerves down toward her stomach, and she tried to push those thoughts to the back of her head, knowing that thinking about such things would only make matters seem far worse than they really were. There was no point in getting herself fussed over nothing, particularly when she needed to be on her top form. At that moment, she knew that she needed to prioritise teaching Eames his dream level above everything else. Nerves were for later.

* * *

When in an airport, if you're not calm and normal looking, then they tend to keep an eye on you. It's one of those things: always keep an eye out for suspicious people. Well, Ariadne wondered if anyone was actually doing their job right, because she certainly wasn't practicing her normal behaviour. As she stumbled her way around the airport, wide eyed and shaky hands, she found it a miracle that she hadn't been stopped yet. Even check-in was a breeze. The lady at the counter barely batted an eyelash at her fake papers, instead, giving her a worn smile and wishing her a safe journey.

Ariadne wondered if she was even at the right airport for a moment, as the whole time, she didn't even spot a familiar face of her team. However, as she went to her gate at the allocated time, she found herself desperately relieved at the sight of Yusuf, sitting on a seat, twiddling his thumbs. She wanted to go talk to him more than anything, but that would be completely out of line at this point. There was nothing she could really do, apart from sit and wait.

She remembered feeling this way before the Fischer job. In fact, if she remembered correctly, she spent almost the entire waiting time in the ladies bathroom, wondering what kind of idiot she was for getting herself in this deep. But of course, at the end of the day, the deep satisfaction and pride she felt from completing the job was enough to completely override the previous nerves. She only hoped that this job would be as successful.

_"Flight 528 to New York now boarding."_

* * *

Ariadne settled into her seat at the back of the cabin. Business class, of course.

She'd never had a problem with flying, but of course, knowing what was was waiting for them at the end of the flight was enough to send her nerves into freak-mode. Soon, she found herself figeting with her seatbelt, fastening and un-fastening the buckle. Reading the emergency landing procedures. When she'd run out of things to do, she leaned over and took in her fellow passengers. It wasn't a very full flight, at least, not in her cabin. There were a few buisness men and women chattering away on their cell phones, trying to finish as much conversation as they could before they had to turn it off. Nobody particularly interesting that she would want to strike up a conversation with.

She noticed that none of the other members of the team appeared to be there, but then again, that was probably Arthur's way to deflecting suspicion. And while it was all very flattering that she had been the lucky one to bag the better seat, she couldn't help but feel a little lonely. A flight this long would be better to have someone to talk to, particularly when she was feeling this jittery. What she wouldn't give to have a conversation with Arthur about architecture, or to hear one of Yusuf's famous stories of his past jobs. Or even about one of his cats.

Leaning back into her seat, she thought about the possibility of trying to catch some sleep.

"Hello, little Architect."

Her head snapped up at the familiar voice almost instantly. Of course, it was Eames, standing over her seat with an all-too familiar lop-sided grin that she had encountered many times before.

Letting her head fall back rather dramatically into her seat, she rolled her eyes. "Oh no, not you."

Eames raised his eyebrows before straightening himself. "Well, that's one way to greet your best friend. I call the aisle seat."

As he tapped his hand (rather forcefully) on the head of her seat, Ariadne let out a heavy sigh. Of course. She unbuckled her seatbelt and moved up to the window seat, trying to keep her rather annoyed stare focused on the ground.

"Arthur would not be mean enough to book me a 7 hour flight next to _you_," she muttered.

The Forger flopped down next to her, exhaling loudly, before turning toward her and pointing a thumb at himself. "Actually, it was my idea." A knowing smile spread across his lips. "I thought we could have a chat."

"About what?"

Shifting, Eames clasped his hands together and seemed to find a comfortable position. "Well, first things first. I've been away for a while, what's been the developments with you and the Point Man?"

Ariadne sighed and resisted the temptation to palm her face. Not this again. Not seven hours of this. "No developments. Nothing there." She replied bluntly.

"Time you stopped kidding yourself."

Already knowing full well that the conversation would bring her nothing but annoyance and possibly a slight hatred for the man, Ariadne brought her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Eames, please. This isn't...this isn't the time. Okay?"

Despite this, Eames continued, as if he hadn't heard. "He told me about that man. The assistant, what's-his-name."

"He told you about that?"

"Oh yes. Seemed rather touchy about it, too."

Something about that made Ariadne feel strange. The infamous Forger had been known to bend the truth once in a while, but somehow the indication that her little 'run in' with Layton had bothered Arthur stuck in her head. She could remember his face very clearly. The way he'd spoken to the other man, forcing him to leave. Of course, he would probably do that for any other person in need, but had there been something else? Had there been another motive behind the Point Man's protective instincts?

Ariadne let her head fall as she sighed heavily. She was doing it again. Over analysing the situation to extreme levels.

"Damn it, Eames," she muttered.

"What?"

Feeling a tinge of anger rise within her, she snapped her head up and caught sight of the older man's wide eyes. "First, you try and persuade me that there is something going on between Arthur and I. Then you tell me that we wouldn't work out together, and now you're asking me about how we were whilst you were gone?" Her voice became slightly higher, a little frantic even.

But Ariadne found that saying it aloud didn't make anything better. The persistant, annoying ache in her head from thinking of it all was still there, and _Arthur _was still pounding away in the very depths of her subconcious. That pissed her off more than anything. Unable to control herself, she raised her hand, and sent it towards Eames' arm, hitting him with a very childish amount of effort.

Silence fell between them as she let her arm fall once more, her eyes still glaring into his.

Slowly but surely, Eames bit his lower lip, his face spreading into a very obvious grin, laugher threatening to escape. She felt another wave of anger hit her as a small snort of laugher came from him. "Calm down! Who rattled your cage?" he chuckled.

A large groan of frustration escaped her. "You did!"

Eames raised his hands in defence towards the younger woman. "I'm only expressing my interest in the matter! These things don't often happen!"

"There is no matter! There is nothing going on!" she hissed in return.

After a blank moment, Eames leaned forward towards her and narrowed his eyes.

His question came quickly. "Ariadne, are you angry at me?"

Ariadne sighed, wondering how on earth she ever managed to get through an entire job with this man. "Yes!"

"Are you angry at Arthur?"

"Yes!"

"Do you really like him?"

"Yes!"

It then took all she had not to bring her hands up to her mouth. Shit.

Yes. Yes, she...did.

Ariadne seemed to lose all control right then. She couldn't even hear the sound of the plane engine anymore as the sound of her own confession rung over and over again in her head like a broken record. A record entitled _Dumb-ass Architects. _Why hadn't it seemed this clear before? She'd spent so long trying to deny everyone's accusations, that she hadn't actually really thought about the real truth behind it all.

What a mistake. What a stupid, idiotic mistake. The one thing she had told herself not to do had slipped from her fingers and taken complete control.

Had she really just admitted that to Eames the Forger? The man who would no doubt, spend the next few days making her life miserable as a result? Ariadne then realised in horror that not only that, but he would probably end up _telling _Yusuf about that, or even Arthur.

Even Eames himself looked a little taken back. His eyes grew wide for a moment, as he watched her closely, their eyes locked in a battling duel of silence. Suddenly, he tilted his head to the side, a smile spreading on his face while he cooed. "...Awwwwww."

Ariadne didn't even have the strength to cause him any physical pain for his ridiculous reaction. Her mind was already to busy with what her next move was.

She could make a run for it. Would Arthur even notice her absence? She could give Eames the dreamscapes, and be on her way. Unfortunately, as she looked down the aisle, she could just catch a glance of the stewardess shutting the cabin door. She looked beside her, catching Eames' knowing toothy grin. As he opened his damn mouth to speak, she raised her hand and sent him the coldest look she had ever managed.

Her voice came out as a quiet mutter. "No, just...shut up."

Eames continued to smile strangely, and gave her a small shrug. "Not a word."

Ariadne let her hand fall, before turning around as much as she could. She twisted around until her entire body was facing the window. As uncomfortable as it was, she didn't care. As she watched the people work around on the ground, she let her head fall against the window with a small thud.

Seven hours.

Woo-hoo.

* * *

Practically the moment that the plane touched town, Ariadne was out of her seat trying to ditch Eames' annoying smirks and looks. It wasn't hard with the crowd of people coming off the plane all at once to finally lose him.

It wasn't until she reached the baggage claim that she found that she could actually breath once more. It only lasted for a sweet moment before she realised that ditching the Forger was probably not the best move on her part. She realised in a panic that she had no idea where she was going. Where to meet them or what to do. She stood over the carousel, trying not to look so worried. But soon, she caught sight of the distinctive figure of the Point Man, who strode towards her, his luggage already trailing behind him. Instantly, she looked down, if not for the sake of the job, then for the sake of her keeping her composure as he came closer and closer. Soon, his form was whisping past her, his gaze pointed ahead, giving her no more attention that he would if she were a complete stranger.

She tried incredibly hard to ignore the small tingling sensation against her fingertips as he pushed a small piece of paper between them. Keeping her eyes directly on the ground, she waited until she could hear the sound of his perfectly polished shoes against the ground disappear, before bringing the paper up and turning her eyes to the small, precisioned writing.

_The Soleri Hotel._

_Remember to use the name on your card._

_Stay there._

_- A_


	23. Chapter 23

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Thank you for all the really lovely reviews. They genuinely bring the biggest smile to my face, and it makes this a pleasure to write, so thank you. Please enjoy!**

* * *

Ariadne sat on the edge of her bed, her hands running across the soft, comforting fabric.

_Thank god for Point Men,_ she thought. Without Arthur's directions, no doubt she would be wondering the streets of New York now, wondering in a blind panic what her next move was. But luckily, she was here, safe and sound, and now sitting contemplating something far more frustrating than a lack of directions.

She liked him. Very much so. No more than a few mere moments after she and Eames had ended their conversation, had the reality of it all hit her right in the face.

Her one rule had been crushed, burned and died a firey death right before her. Don't fall for Arthur.

But who was she to kid herself in the first place? He was truely the rarest find she'd ever seen in her entire life. And not only that, but the kiss. That kiss. Quick, chaste and _so _completely incredible, that she had found herself wanting more. Much more. Of course, there were the more superficial aspects of his appeal, his impeccable clothing, his sharp, dark eyes and his intimidating presence that nobody else could ever dare to attempt. But then again, there was also the other things. The way he spoke to her, always gentle and patient, never fierce or dominating like he was with the others. The way he talked to her about architecture, his genuine interest in things of importance to her. Sadly, she knew it was probably some form of sympathetic tolerance if anything else.

In some part of her mind, she had a distant memory of Eames commenting on the improbable chance of it being not totally unrequited. But that was a stupid thing to say, especially when Ariadne knew that it most certainly was. She was the Architect, and nothing more. She saw it in the way that Arthur always talked about her work, and had never once shown any interest in anything remotely romantic between them.

He could have (and probably already had) as many women as beautiful and brilliant as he wanted. And for some reason, the thought of that actually hurt. Something strange and slightly painful in her chest that hadn't been there before.

The sound of knocking echoed through her room then. Already knowing well enough who it was, Ariadne let her head fall into her hands and sighed deeply. With her combination of luck and fate, who else would it be?

She stood from the bed, moved quickly towards the door and swung it open, met with the image of the perfectly groomed Point Man on the other side.

The tiny voice inside her screamed at her to shut the door before she did or said something stupid, but she smiled, and tried to hide the slightly off-tone of her voice as she greeted him. "Hi."

He returned with a small nod. "Hello." His voice was pleasant, light. Like nothing more than two friends discussing something far more normal. "Enjoy the flight?"

Ariadne stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As he brushed past her, she kept her eyes to the ground and tried to focus solely on her response, of course, leaving out all the details regarding her and Eames' interrogation.

"Well, let me think. The constant chatter in my ear about the modern politics of Britain from a certain hyper-active Forger probably didn't make it my favourite journey ever."

A minute smile spread across his lips that could only be described as some form of amusement at her misfortune. "Sorry to hear that."

She gave a light shrug. "It's fine." Moving across, she reached out and began picking at the paint on the wall, silently hoping that he wouldn't notice the shift in her behaviour as quickly as he normally did. "So, what now?"

"Well, we're expecting Andrew Walton to arrive at Noon tomorrow. Until then, I'd recommend that you spend that time showing Eames his dream layout."

Ariadne nodded. "Sure. Oh, before you go..." Hastily grabbing a handful of papers from her case, she held them out to him. The dreamscapes for his level. "Take this. Just in case you want to look at it again before we begin."

As he took the papers from her, again, she could feel his skin brushing against hers for the smallest of seconds, creating a warm, tingling sensation. She swallowed, and quickly broke away as he looked up and caught her eyes. "Thank you. In about an hour, come to Eames' room. We'll discuss our plans for sedating Andrew."

"Okay."

Her voice was quiet. Timid and small suddenly, unlike it had been before. Of course, the perceptive Point Man caught it instantly and locked his eyes with hers once more. She found herself rooted to the ground as she stared at his statuesque form. His calculating stare burned into her, before speaking.

"If you want out, now's the time to say." His voice was soft, and understanding. He never pressed her.

Ariadne sighed and shook her head. It was strange, how the man could understand everything in a heartbeat, yet he'd completely mistook her quiet and timid behavior as something job-related. Which of course, it wasn't.

"I'm not going to quit. I'm going to finish this with you."

In her mind, she thought how interesting it was that she meant the last part more than anything. She **would **finish whatever she had started with him. The question of whether or not she would consider doing it again after this remained unanswered, and she found herself far too tired and weak to try and think about it at that moment. But her pledge lay between them as an unofficial promise. Although, it still nagged at her that these things were easier said than done.

She watched as the words ran through Arthur's head for a moment, his reaction mute as they both stood in silence. For a few seconds, she was unsure of what to do, and was about to open her mouth before he spoke.

"Eames' room. In an hour."

The dismissive tone practically sent shivers down her spine as he turned and left the room in just a few short strides.

Her reaction was immediate. Reaching into her pocket, her fingers wrapped around the smooth bishop, before pulling it out and casting her eyes down. She moved over and placed it on the dressing table, knocking it down quickly and swiftly. She knew that she shouldn't be so relieved to see it fall perfectly, and spin around carelessly on the hard surface of the table, but the confirmation of her reality did seem so sweet.

An elegant solution for keeping track of reality, indeed.

* * *

Later, exactly as Arthur had promised, Ariadne entered Eames' room and met the others. A pre-production meeting, as she thought of it. As they sat on chairs, hanging on the Point Man's every word, she desperately tried her hardest to not and catch Eames' knowing smirks that were being sent her way.

Arthur stood, his hand pressed to the table, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms in a sign of thought, and probably a little tiredness. "Two blocks away, Andrew Walton will be staying in the Blackstone Hotel. I've booked a room on the top floor, where we can begin the Extraction."

Eames was tipped back on his chair, dangling back at a dangerously balanced point. "How do we get him sedated without being noticed?"

"Well, it's as simple as getting into his room when he is alone."

Eames replied by rolling his eyes, and answering with a very sarcastic bite. "He's not going to just let us in."

"Room service?" Yusuf suggested, his eyes flickering across the other's faces.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he leaned back against the table top, folding his arms across his chest. "Do we look like we work in room service?"

Ariadne had to stifle a laugh then, if nothing else, then for the pure humour. Never before had she been involved with people that dressed this...oddly. For people who worked in dingy warehouses and locked away in hotels for 90% of the time, suits and ties seemed to fit the dress code quite perfectly, somehow.

Realising she'd caught everyone else's attention, she cleared her throat and pushed some loose hair behind her ear. "Well, we can't all go in at once without causing a panic, right?"

"That's true."

"I'll go in, and say I've lost the key to my room or something. Give me the sedation, and I'll do it."

There was a silence then. Ariadne couldn't help but feel a little bewildered at the almost stunned reaction from the rest of her team.

After a moment, Eames leaned forward and quirked his eyebrow slightly at the younger woman. "Can you handle that?"

Ariadne frowned. Was it so hard for them to believe that she might be able to handle her simple idea? "It's not hard."

He then shrugged, leaned back, and clasped his hands together on his lap, a warm grin beginning to spread. "Well, I'm perfectly on board, what about you, Arthur?"

Ariadne looked towards the Point Man, who was still standing, arms folding, his eyes digging into her. His calculating stare once again planted her feet to the ground, as she began to feel like they were the only two people in the room for just that moment.

He finally spoke, his voice rather quiet and gentle, only aimed toward her. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

She wasn't sure, but Ariadne couldn't help but feel the hidden weight of his words. What had she just committed herself to do, exactly? The action of the job had suddenly just been rested on her shoulders.

Knowing she had to speak, less risk the trust of the others, she replied quietly. "Yes."

Arthur's stare still hooked at her, an almost invisible pull, never allowing her to pull herself away. She could practically see Eames' shit-eating grin beside her.

Finally, he spoke. "...It'll work." Breaking the gaze, he turned to the Chemist. "Yusuf, the sedative will have to be similar to when we did the Fischer job. Something small and easy to be slipped into a drink or something."

Yusuf gave a small scoff, before lifting himself from his chair and muttering, "Nothing's ever challenging, anymore."

"I'll have the PASIV set up in here so you can show Eames his dreamscape."

"Thanks."

As Arthur began to move, and the team began to divide, Ariadne felt a nervous twitch in her stomach before asking: "What happens afterwards?"

The Point Man turned, his dark eyes narrowed for the smallest of moments. For a split second, he almost appeared to be...unsure.

"After what?" he asked.

Reaching behind her, Ariadne rubbed the back of her neck. "Um, after the job is over?"

Arthur turned fully, before responding. "Well, I assume you'll go back to Paris. Yes?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course."

"I'll probably head somewhere down South, Eames normally disappears off the face of the Earth, and Yusuf will go back to Mombassa. I recommend for the next few weeks or so to lay low. The money will be forwarded to your bank about a week after, and..."

To Ariadne, he voice began to fade into nothing. She hadn't known what she'd expected, but that wasn't really the answer she was hoping for. The image of her, alone and bewildered at the airport post-inception entered her mind.

His voice began to bring her back. "Ariadne?"

She looked up, her eyes widened slightly. "Yeah?"

The sound of palms slamming against the side of a chair errupted next to her. "Well, I'm offically bored." Eames rose from his seat, and gave a small salute to the Architect, before making his way towards the door, no doubt downstairs to the bar. "See you later, love."

Arthur frowned at the Forger's aprupt exit. "Eames-"

For a while, Ariadne found that she couldn't move. The weight of what had just been said was forcing her to her seat, and her feeling of stupidity only heightened.

Of course things would be the same. Of course she would have to finish the job, go back to Paris alone, and re-live the past few months that have made her life a living hell once more. But deep down, had she really expected anything otherwise? The realisation dug deep down into her stomach, like a sharp pain. But really, it only became even worse when she realised that the only cure to his cycle, perhaps even to her sanity, was to _keep on dreaming. _The only thing that made sense anymore. She could feel it happening already within the deep mazes of her mind, the thrist and blind desire to build and create. She had felt it before, in those dull classes just after the Inception, where her mind would whisk away to the strange and wonderful worlds where anything was structurally possible.

It suddenly made a terrible sense that the only thing to calm and sooth this need, would be to continue working in this very business that had created it.

But how could she?

Not when she'd seen the effects up front. The grey, crumbling world of Cobb's Limbo, the horrible guilt and sorrow that he'd felt during his loss. The deathly Shade that she had encountered in his mind far more than she had wanted to. Would this be something that could happen to her? Probably. And even Arthur; the mysterious man always on the run, had probably had some faint sketch of a life before this. But now, there seemed to be no trace. What would she have to sacrifice? Her career? Her family? Her _mind? _How stupidly ironic she found it that the one thing that would cure her hunger to dream, would also be the same thing to her curse.

But then again, how could she re-live those few months after her first job? How could she spend almost every night in tears, awaking from strange nightmares that she had never had before? No, that wasn't a life. Not in the slightest.

Her head began to ache. Ariadne stared at the ground, before pushing herself up quickly, and walking toward the door, muttering the smallest: "Excuse me."


	24. Chapter 24

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**I loved writing this chapter. This chapter was actually going to take a totally different direction, but as I started writing, the two characters literally just made it flow. And as I've said before, never disturb the flow. I was so happy with where this ended up. I hope you enjoy reading it, and reviews are always hugely loved and appreciated.**

* * *

Ariadne couldn't sleep. Not that she had expected to. Her mind was far to busy racing with the day's earlier thoughts and puzzles, never resting to allow her a few moments of peace.

But strangely, for reasons she could not contemplate, her thoughts wondered around the fact that the job would in fact be relying on her, and her alone. When she had wanted to take a more practical part in the extraction, this really wasn't what she had in mind. After all, there was always the possibility of her screwing up, and ruining everyone's chances. Her voulenteering had seemed simple enough- it was only now when she was alone had she really begun to think about the effects of what she had just hired herself to do.

And all through the night, always at the back of her mind, there was a small ache. The tinest of nagging, just enough to be heard.

_It'll be over soon. You'll be alone again._

It was haunting. The idea that she would be left alone once more, fresh out of fear from a job, left to battle the hidden vicious depths of her subconcious. Would it be as bad as the last time? The idea was enough to make her sick. And it most certainly _did not _help that she was now involved in the now complex maze of feelings towards the Point Man.

Having spent a large amount of the day teaching Eames his level fully, she'd recieved numerous knowing glances and cheeky winks that only the Forger could manage. It had only heightened her annoyance for the man. But now that her job was done (for now), she'd spent the evening in her room, watching television and eating obsene amounts of room service, trying and failing to keep her mind away from just about everything else in her life. Oddly, in her solitude, she began thinking of Cobb, and even stranger, his children.

The poor things. Those poor, dear things. Ariadne knew the sorrow of losing a mother, as she'd lost hers when she was no older than nine. (But of course, she tried not to think about _that _for any longer than necessary.) But she couldn't even imagine the distinct absence of their father combined. How dream-sharing had effected them, she had no idea, and quite frankly, such things were not worth thinking about. But of course, how did Cobb live with himself? How did he manage the guilt that he must have been carrying over the years? He'd lost his wife due to a spiraling case of addiction. Not unlike the one that she was starting to develop herself. Would she turn out like that eventually? The taste of the dream world becoming so needed, that the only solution was over the window ledge? The idea of becoming nothing more than a shade, a vacant memory in someone's mind was enough to make her toss and turn between the sheets for hours.

Eventually, when her mind grew weak and she could no longer take it, Ariadne pulled herself from the bed, slid her shoes on, and quietly slipped from her room.

She tried to move quietly down the hall, not wanting to alert the other's to her wandering. She decided it was either the very early hours of the morning, or the very late hours of the night, as there seemed to be so sign of other life anywhere but contained in the rooms. The hallways were dimly lit with a dark amber colour, warming and comforting as she creeped across the floor. She wanted fresh air, and an open space to clear her head. Part of her knew where to get it, but wondered aimlessly until she found where she wanted to go.

Not far from the elevator, she found a large metal door, the bright sign claiming: _**ROOF- OFF LIMITS**. _Well, if she had gone this far with the illegal work she was doing, why not break a few more rules once more?

The air was crisp and cold, but welcomed on her cheeks as she stepped out. She made sure to prop the door open with on old piece of pipe she'd found, and began to walk towards the edge. Had it not been covered by thick, black iron bars, she would have been rather nervous. Heights had never been any particular issue for her, but there was something very unsettling about the possibility of falling.

The view was undeniably beautiful- bright lights and a black sky blanketed the sight before her. Although she found that nothing would compare to the bright lights of Paris, the landscape was truly breathtaking. As she walked over, she found the sharp, cool wind whipping across her face was extremely pleasant. Like it was waking her up from a deep sleep. When she reached the edge, she wrapped her hands around the iron bars, just pushing herself up on her tip-toes to see the world below.

It was rather wonderful.

Just then, a gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her back to earth, causing her to fall back and gasp in surprise.

She snapped her head around, and caught sight of a hovering Point Man, his hands in his pockets. Her hand flew up to her heart, still thumping quickly from the shock she had just recieved. "Shit! I mean-" She caught herself, seeing a small amused smirk pull at the corner of his lips. Very graceful. "Arthur."

He held his hands up before him, shaking his head slowly. The smile still hung from his lips. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, I just..." She sighed, and regained her composure as she turned towards him, leaning her hip against the side of the railing. "Wasn't expecting anyone to be up here."

"I could say the same thing." The amusement gently slid from his expression, as it fell into something more peaceful. She watched as he placed both his hands on the bars, his head turned just enough to watch her. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, before reaching up and running a hand through her hair. "No. You?"

"Not really. I can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

As a moment of silence fell between them, Ariadne looked down and noticed something incredibly strange. Never before had she seen the Point in anything other than a perfectly tailored suit, or a crisp shirt and tie. However, it seemed to her absolute bewilderment that he was in fact, in _pajamas. _It seemed so odd, and despite that it was a perfectly normal habit for people to wear the regular nightwear attire, she found that she couldn't stop looking at the dark blue pajama pants and dark grey t-shirt. Some part of it was...undeniably sexy. She silently chastised herself a little for being so fascinated, as it was hardly out of the ordinary, and it wasn't like he was _nude _or anything, but truthfully, he may as well have been.

There was a reason she wore her scarves almost religiously. It was part of her image, the way she presented herself. She was never one to show too much skin, because she wasn't one of those people who walked around half naked all the time. It was part of her facade, and part of her wall that she built between her and others. Honestly, that's what she had thought about Arthur and his formal attire. And now that it was gone, somehow it felt like she was really _seeing _something that she had never really looked at. A man without his armour.

Before she could contemplate furthur, Arthur turned his head, forcing her to look up. She remained still as his eyes flickered over her face, reading her expression with intense concentration that practically pinned her to the ground.

"Are you alright? Today...you left in a hurry." His voice was softer, and she certainly detected the hint of concern that was definitely hidden in there somewhere.

She nodded almost instantly. "Yes, I'm fine."

As he quirked an eyebrow, Ariadne found herself almost wanting to cower under his watchful eye. When he spoke, she didn't feel any better. "You're an awful liar."

"It's all just a little..."

"Overwhelming?"

She found herself silent for a moment, before sighing heavily. "Yeah." She turned her head down, feeling a pink tinge creep over her cheeks from her shame. Of all the people to admit weakness to, Arthur was not the person she wanted.

"Ariadne." His voice was soft, quietly asking her attention. But she kept her head down, afraid to hear whatever he might say. She heard the quiet shuffling of feet beside her for a second, before it happened. Two hands placed themselves on her shoulders, gently but firmly turning her towards him. She wondered if he could feel her body tense at the contact. "_Ariadne_," he repeated, so quiet, that she only barely heard it. But it was enough to give her the strength to lift her head. As soon as she did, she found herself frozen to the ground as she found herself caught with his **deep**, **dark **eyes. She tried desperately to ignore the fact that he was no less than a few inches away from her. "Nobody's judging you. Nobody's watching you, or waiting for something to go wrong, alright? Don't feel bad for finding this all a little hard. We all feel that way sometimes."

She couldn't deny that what he'd just said sent a wave of comfort through her mind. But still, the shame she was feeling caused her to retaliate furthur. "I bet you never feel like this."

He sighed gently, his eyes falling to the floor. "I used to. Very frequently."

That was an unexpected image. Arthur never seemed like the type of person to even understand what she was feeling, let alone become as nervous as she felt sometimes.

She continued. "It's just...earlier, you were talking about what happens when this is all over. I guess I was just hoping for something different."

"I can't change the rules, not even if I wanted to."

As she swallowed, she found her throat closing up, making it harder to push the words out. "I don't want to go back to how it was before," she whispered, feeling a stinging sensation in her eyes. "I was so confused. Frightened of myself."

A second passed of pure silence, before the unexpected happened. Her breath hitched in her throat, as she watched his hand slowly -_dangerously slowly_- reach up, and just brush the lightest of touches against her temple, his thumb trailing along her skin as he pushed some loose hair behind her ear. She tried so hard to remain calm, trying to hide how much the contact of skin excited her, but it was growing increasingly difficult as she felt her skin burn behind his touch. Her stomach began to flutter as she heard his small pants of breath. It was only then that she realised how badly she wanted to move a little closer, just to feel the warm breaths against her cheek, or _his lips against hers._

But her daze was broken as he spoke quietly. "You don't have to be."

Ariadne bit her bottom lip at that. It was a weird feeling; the strange weightless sense inside her chest. It was like all gravity was escaping her, and the only thing holding her down was his hand on her shoulder, and the other holding the side of her face, just brushing her skin, as if he knew that the feeling was almost painful as it burned into her. She realised then, that he was the only thing stopping her from up and running out of this whole thing.

_Help me, Arthur. Don't leave me. _

She wanted to say it. No, she wanted to scream it. Scream it across the rooftop, not caring who heard. But as her lips opened, trembling slightly, she found that she had no voice. Nothing came out, no matter how much her head cried at her to say the words. His eyes locked into hers, rendering her speechless like many times before.

_Don't leave me._

_Don't leave me._

_Don't leave me._

But it was too late. Soon, she felt his hands pull back, freeing her, exposing her skin to the cold air once again. She didn't like it. Nor did she like the sudden feeling of distance between them, or the way that his eyes were suddenly looking everywhere but back into hers.

Stepping back slightly, he reached back and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. "You should probably try and get some sleep."

As the strange feelings subsided, Ariadne found her voice once again, just in time to mumble, "So should you. If you can."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She felt like she was being dismissed. But too dazed and tired at this point to even care, she gave him a small nod, and turned, walking back to the door. However, she was about to step inside before she heard his strained voice call her name, causing her to turn.

"Ariadne."

As she caught his eye again, she noticed the sharpness in his eyes, the sudden straightness in his shoulders and torso, almost as if he had suddenly become aware once more of who they were, and why they were there in the first place. He was once again returning to being the Point Man: who he had to be in order to function.

"Tomorrow. I need you to..." His eyes narrowed, just slightly, before continuing. "I need you to listen to me. If I tell you to do something, do it, no questions asked, understand?"

There was a certain stress in his voice. Something dark and hidden that she couldn't quite catch. She wasn't even sure if she'd heard it right.

She nodded. "Yes."

"If I tell you to wake up, you do it right away."

She had to stop at that. There was definitely something else there. Something hidden beneath those words that she couldn't understand.

Stepping back, she tilted her head a little, trying to catch his attention and bring it back. "Is there something I should know?"

He remained like stone, his arms hanging loosely by his side. "I-" He caught himself, before dropping his gaze. Ariadne watched as he began to think, _really think _about what he was saying. It was a fascinating thing to watch. As he looked back up, she found herself once again melting under his stare. "I'm hoping that there are certain things you will never have to know."

Ariadne frowned. It wasn't a satisfying answer to her in any way. "Remember what you promised. The basis of our agreement was no lies."

Arthur shook his head in response. "I haven't lied to you. Not once."

There was an honesty in his voice that made her feel unusually aggitated. Such perfection in a single person would annoy anyone else, she thought. The thought that she would never have anything to hold above him was frustrating.

So much so, that she found she had run out of things to say. Slipping him one last quick nod, she spoke. "Goodnight, Arthur." Then she turned, walked through the door and back into the warmth of the indoors, only just managing to hear the Point Man's voice one last time, spoken into the wind.

"Sweet dreams."


	25. Chapter 25

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**I really cannot apologise enough for the large delay, but I've had a really bad case of the writer's block, and exams are everywhere at the moment. However, they will be done within a week or so, so updates will pick up real quick. **

**As always: please enjoy, and review if you have the chance!**

* * *

_It was late. The warehouse seemed a gloomy grey as Ariadne looked around her, and only the dim yellow lighting of the desk lamps gave a faint, but warm glow. _

_It was just her and Arthur now. Working late, as they always did. She was never sure of where the others went, but always guessed that Cobb retired back to his hotel or wherever he had decided to stay, his mind always tired and tormented with the grief and loss that she had discovered was hidden. Eames probably left and spent the evenings at the local bar, drinking and enjoying his lone self until the early hours of the morning. Yusuf always seemed to leave at the presise same time every evening. At half past 8, he bid them goodnight and retired for the night. Something about these patterns was comforting to her, and she'd got used to the same routines. _

_7:00- Cobb leaves. Says nothing but a short goodbye to Arthur, and sometimes a small mutter of something she can never understand. Arthur always nods, understanding his need for solitude._

_7:10- Eames waits until he is sure that the Extractor is gone. Then he leaves, bids her a goodnight, pats Arthur on the back, and leaves._

_8:30- After locking the door to his stored compounds, Yusuf wishes them both a goodnight, and leaves them._

_Everynight. Always the same._

_It was always her and Arthur to be the last to leave. She wouldn't say that it was because they worked the most, or had nowhere else to go, but she would say that there was something undeniably comfortable about the silences that they shared. Quite often, they would indulge in delightful small talk, but more often than none, they would say nothing at all. Sometimes, no words would be shared throughout the entire evening. And strangely, that didn't bother her in the slightest. _

_However one night, Arthur began the conversation. __Ariadne walked across the warehouse, papers in hand, and marched towards Arthur's desk where he sat, hunched over his laptop, his face creased into a thoughtful frown._

_"These are for you," she spoke, gently placing the sheets down on the side. "They're the sketches for the lobby of the second level."_

_Hearing her, he sat up, and turned his attention away from his work towards her. "Thank you. I'll look over these tonight."_

_She leaned over, and pointed towards the design. "Just remember, that this is where the bar will be. The elevators will lead off to here..."_

_"Why are you always here so late?"_

_Ariadne blinked. She straightened herself and caught his eyes, which were gazing into hers in a scrutinising way that made her want to crawl into the ground and hide from his view. How was she suppose to react to that? Some part of her distant mind told her that she perhaps should be offended by the hidden undertone of his voice, but then again, his gentle features reminded her that not everything he said was suppose to indimidate her. _

_"Um..." She mumbled, searching for an answer that made even the slightest bit of sense. "I'm not sure. I guess I just like to make sure my work is done."_

_"Ariadne, you're 21. Aren't students like you supposed to be out partying everynight?"_

_A small, dry laugh escaped her lips as she folded her arms across her chest. "I've never really been one for partying."_

_"I guess I should have figured that."_

_In response, she rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm a bit of a nerd, there's no need to point it out."_

_"I wasn't saying that." The corner of his lips upturned, amused by her assumptions. "And you're not a nerd, you just know how to prioritise."_

_To Arthur, that may have been the best compliment a person can recieve. However, the young Architect wasn't entirely sure how to react to the strange statement._

_"Thanks?" she spoke, her voice a little high and uncertain, enough to make the Point Man smirk in the faint traces of amusement, before turning and flicking his eyes back to his screen. She began picking the loose threads of her scarf. "Can I ask you something?"_

_Without turning his eyes away from the bright screen, he nodded. "You can."_

_"You and Eames. You don't...like him very much, do you?"_

_"That doesn't matter." He spoke quickly, dismissively. Nothing apart from job details really seemed to matter to this man. However, Ariadne was determined to continue, and find an answer to the question that was bugging her since she had started working with these people._

_She frowned. "Well it does if you're working with him for weeks on end."_

_"He's a good Forger, if not, the best. In case you haven't noticed, he's a little too brash for my taste."_

_Ariadne gave him a soft smile, thinking of all the joking and entertainment Eames seemed to get from his banter with the younger man. She leaned against the side of his desk, making herself comfortable. "He seems to think you're the coolest guy around."_

_Arthur gave a scoff of disagreement. Ariadne smiled, and shook her head._

_"You should talk to him about it."_

_He replied with a half-hearted shrug, and met her eyes with a soft gaze. "It doesn't bother me so much that I would risk the quality of the work we do. There's no point in my trying to have a more tolerable relationship with Eames. We don't always get to pick who we want to work with. Sometimes you get along with people, and sometimes you don't."_

_"That's very...adult of you."_

_A small chuckle escaped him. He shook his head to himself. "I wasn't always so accepting of people. When Cobb and I were in our earlier extraction days, I used to complain for hours on end about people he'd hired."_

_Ariadne drew back, her face contorting into a worried frown. "Oh god, I hope you don't do that about me."_

_"No, we don't do that anymore," he dismissed. A small, sly smirk spread across his lips. "We just keep our thoughts to ourselves."_

_Ariadne shifted. "Oh-"_

_Another low, single chuckle errupted from him. "Ariadne, I'm kidding. Calm down, you're one of the few that I've enjoyed working with."_

_Strangly, an image ran through her mind. An image of a younger Cobb and Arthur, who laughed and talked like real people. Like real friends. Did something even remotely like that happen at one point? She couldn't tell, not looking at them now. Not with their suits and blank stares, more like men who had nothing else in the world than this very job. But yet, there is was. That faint, but persistant picture of a younger pair, laughing together over the result of a job. It just didn't seem possible._

_Her eyes travelled over his features, her curiosity peaking. "How come you don't do that anymore? With Cobb?"_

_Quickly, his face contorted, his lips twisting as his eyes narrowed in a certain look of discomfort, perhaps at a memory or thought that he wanted to avoid. Either way, it intrigued Ariadne even furthur. "...We changed. It got serious and...suddenly other things seemed more important."_

_Silence fell between the two. As he resumed his work, Ariadne waited a moment, listening to the sound of the keyboard quickly being tapped away. She sat up, and leaned over slightly, her eyes catching the black and white information before her. _

_"What are you doing?" she asked._

_"Learning Fischer Senior inside out."_

_As the screen scrolled down, Ariadne frowned as she caught sight of Robert Fischer's face. Blank. Silent. It was interesting, she thought, how the child of a neglective father always seemed to be so calm and collected. How he never seemed to have public breakdowns or noticable emotional turmoils. Especially interesting, considering that his CEO father was now slowly decaying in the public eye. In that sense, Ariadne felt a kind of sympathy for the man. A small tinge of recodnition, of relation to what he was going through. Knowing what that type of loss felt like. _

_She sighed, and spoke no louder than a whisper. "It's kind of sad, isn't it?"_

_"What is?" Arthur's voice was no much more than a mumble, showing that his focus was still mainly on the practical information. The things he can use._

_"Well...Fischer. He's losing his father."_

_Turning his head slightly, he caught her eye with a quirked eyebrow of confusion. "It happens to thousands of people, everyday."_

_"Yeah, but-" Ariadne paused. He just didn't get it. Of course he wouldn't. What did Arthur care? Fischer's present problem was nothing more than a statistic, a note on some paper that would be taken into mild consideration for there plan. No sympathy was needed in Arthur's opinion. "Nevermind," she sighed, her shoulders falling heavily. She reached up and pointed towards the door. __"I'm gonna go."_

_He stopped typing then, leaning back and stretching his arms gracefully out before him, eyeing her closely. "Are you fine to get home?"_

_It was cold outside. Really cold. And dark. But Ariadne really didn't want to have to drive home with Arthur as she had done before. Not that she didn't enjoy her small moments alone with him (because she did, very much so), but it seemed that she would rather enjoy her own peaceful company that night. She nodded. "Yeah, sure."_

_Ariadne"Goodnight."_

_" 'Night."_

* * *

When Ariadne woke, it was still dark. Without even looking at the bedside clock, she knew that the time must have been an obsene hour for someone to wake when they had a rather important engagement the same day. A **very **important engagement. But no matter how desperately hard she tried, she couldn't force herself back into that much needed slumber. Especially when memories of the previous evening came flooding back to her. So, she decided that much to her dismay, that any more sleep was certainly not an option.

As she slipped (stumbled, then nearly tripped on her chaotic mess of clothing on the ground) from her bed, she switched on the televsion and sat herself on the couch, flicking mindlessly through the shitty late night dramas. Settling on the news channel, she immersed herself in a robbery report.

She remembered seeing the first news story of the Fischer Morrow company dispersion. Knowing that she hadn't the slightest clue of how the buisness world worked, she couldn't even begin to imagine the effect this must have had in the corporate side of things. How they had done it so perfectly, she'd never know. Somehow, in the mass of all the chaos and questioning of this one event, there had been nothing as much as a tinge of a clue leading onto the inception. Nothing to single their names out at all. It was nothing less than amazing that nobody had even considered it. And in that sense, the Architect actually felt proud at what they had achieved.

But she couldn't help but wonder how this had affected Fischer himself. After all, he'd just lost his father, and probably his godfather not long after the grand buisness choice. There was certainly more in it for Peter Browning than the pleasure of working with his godson, that's for sure. No doubt the change of the company affected him in some rather unfortunate ways, money-wise.

There was really, just the smallest part of Ariadne, that wished that Robert Fischer was having something of a better life as a result of what they'd done. But of course, she'd never know. And that was the way it was meant to be.

As the sun slowly broke through the curtains during the early morning hours, Ariadne decided that she may as well start moving, as the day ahead promised nothing but hard work and little rest. Within minutes, she had changed into something of a formal attire. If not to make an impression, then to give her some emotional confidence. As she changed into a crisp clean shirt, and tied a dark blue scarf around her neck, she wondered if she was the only one ready this early. Probably not. After all, pre-extraction nerves must have been contagious.

After she'd changed, brushed her hair and mentally prepared herself, she decided to wait. After all, Eames was probably still in an early morning mood, and Arthur and Yusuf were probably doing some last minute work, bothering any of them without right or reason was the last thing she wanted to do.

So she did the only thing she could find herself having the strength to do. Like many others, it was one of those things that instantly made her feel calmer.

Eat breakfast.

* * *

Two hours, five pancakes and three coffees later, Ariadne found herself sitting in Eames' hotel room, waiting for the Point Man to arrive. She sat on a chair, watching the Forger in pure fascination as he began laying out playing cards on his bed, sat perfectly comfortable on a pile of pillows.

"You playing?" he asked, without removing his eyes from the organised stacks that he was creating.

"I don't know how."

"It's easy. You try to get to 21 without going over. Just say 'hit me' when you want another card."

Ariadne dragged her chair over to the side of the bed, and leaned over onto her knees. Really, she had nothing better to do, so playing a meaningless card game with Eames didn't seem an all too bad idea. "Okay. Hit me."

Eames placed a card down in front of her, before lifting his head a little and catching her eyes. The same knowing, mistivious glint in his eyes. "So..." he spoke slowly, ringing out the word for all it's worth. "Sleep well?"

"Not really. Hit me."

The Forger quirked an eyebrow, eyeing her from a low gaze. "Oh. Why's that?"

She gave a lazy, heavy shrug. "I don't know. Hit me."

"Hmm. I should imagine you were uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Hit me."

"Oh yeah, it get's really cold on that roof at night."

Ariadne looked up instantly at that remark. Seeing the beaming smile on his face sent her over the edge, as she threw her hands in the air in frustration, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Damn it, Eames!" she spat at the man, who was still wearing that insufferable grin on his face. Ariadne sound herself stammering, a habit of which she only used when completely bewildered. "I just can't...understand why you're doing this to me. Spying on me?"

"Well, I was taking a late night wonder and saw you head up. Naturally, I wanted to make sure the little Architect was okay, so I followed you."

_Little Architect. Little Architect. Little Architect. _Ariadne felt her face contort into an expression of anger. "First of all, stop calling me that," she spoke, just short of snapping. "And secondly, your concern doesn't justify your spying on me and Arthur in any way." She leaned back and cross her arms over her chest, watching the Forger with a challenging glare. "Hit me."

Eames however, barely looked up. Instead, he simple shrugged and kept his gaze lowered onto the cards below them. "It was rather fun to watch."

"You're a real bastard."

Letting out a small laugh, Eames shook his head to himself in clear amusement. "This really bothers you."

Ariadne scoffed. "Please, you don't effect me nearly as much as you think you do."

He looked up then. Tilting his head just enough to catch her eyes in his typical knowing, satisfied glance that only infuriated her furthur. "Well, considering the fact that your face is now a lovely pink colour, and the fact that you're now on 32 in this game..." A corner of his lips upturned. "I'd say it does bother you."

"I-" Ariadne stammered. She found that really, he was getting to her, just as he always did. There was no real way to deal with it, because deep down, she regrettably knew that he was right. So she shut herself up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped away, keeping nothing but her back turned against the Forger.

The thing that annoyed her more so than anything else was the fact that someone else had intruded on a very private victory for her. The previous night on the roof had not been anything special, nothing romantic, dangerous or life-changing, but more or less productive. She'd found herself drawing closer and closer between the cracks in the hard exterior of the Point Man, uncovering and discovering little things that she hoped nobody else had ever known. An immature thought, maybe, but the idea of the small moments of exposure made her feel somewhat special. It was something that she wanted to remember. The way he'd assured her with his words, the way his hands lightly brushed against her cheek, burning that feeling forever into her brain.

Now, as childish as the thought was, the memory felt tainted to her. Knowing that Eames, the source of her devistation over the past few days had been watching, drinking it in as a satisfied confirmation that he had been right from the start.

She turned her head as the door opened, and in walked the man in question, and the attentive Chemist wandering behind him, mumbling about the stablility of the levels.

Arthur, clad in a light striped shirt and dark brown tie stepped in, eyes running quickly over the contents of the table, before slipping off his suit jacket and placing it carefully over the nearest chair. (God forbid it would crease or something.)

"Good Morning," he spoke polietly as he saw the Architect, standing beside the bathroom door, hovering aimlessly.

She gave him a small nod. "Morning."

Eames, who had previously been sitting against the headboard of the bed slid off, and tugged on his sleeves in an attempt to smooth out the rumbled fabric. "So what shall we do until the time comes, eh?"

Arthur gave him a quick glance before moving towards the desk, flicking open the locks on the PASIV, and pushing it open. "We wait."

* * *

_Ariadne had decided a long time before the Fischer job that waiting was boring. But then again, living in a big city, not only as a student, but as a young person, waiting was encountered on a daily basis. Waiting for trains, food, money, class deadlines...it was all there. Waiting was really just a part of live. _

_However, the idea of waiting for the passing of Robert Fischer's father seemed an almost digusting prospect to her. What would happen when he died? Would there be cheering from other members of the team. Sighs of relief? Balloons and party hats? It seemed that the entire routine of their job depended on when and where this man's life would end. And Ariadne knew, probably more than anyone else on the team, that the death of a loved one was nothing to be taken lightly. __Not something one waits for._

_But there they were, Arthur and Saito standing by the side, looking towards Ariadne and the Extractor in anticipation at the beginning of the end._

_Cobb looked towards them, his stony face hiding any memory of what had just occured between him and the young Architect. "Book us another seat on that flight."_

_Arthur, who's head was down, his hands buried deep through a bag of paperwork, looked up. His eyes flickered momentarily from Cobb to Ariadne. "Why?" _

_"Ariadne's coming."_

_Ariadne caught the Point Man's eyes, which were now looking rather uncertain, something that did not fit Arthur well. He kept his steady gaze on Cobb. _

_"Cobb..." he started, clearly minding his words around the sensitive younger woman. "This...we can't afford any last minute changes like this."_

_"I'm coming." Ariadne rose from her seat, smoothing out the fabric of her shirt. "Whether you like it or not."_

_Saito, who was just as new to the rising tension that filled the room as she was, began to shift on his feet, a sense of discomfort about him. "I shall see what I can do." And with that, he turned his back and disappeared, turning on his heel quickly from the others. _

_Ariadne kept her focus on the Point Man, who was now staring back, his sharp eyes hard with the prospect of any change to the plan. He stepped forward, and looked toward Cobb, who had began packing up the PASIV. _

_"She hasn't been trained. She doesn't even know-"_

_Cobb turned swiftly, his jaw set. "Arthur. She's coming. That's all there is to it." Ariadne wasn't sure, but his eyes seemed darker, hiding an unspoken threat. "Your opinion might matter, but you don't have the final say."_

_He turned his back to the younger man, who hovered wordlessly for a moment before turning, and storming from the room. _

* * *

Ariadne found herself sitting cross legged on the floor in silence. Arthur had given her the option to order room service if she got hungry, but the nerves of the oncoming event twisted a knot in her stomach that made it extremely difficult to keep down her dangerously large breakfast, let alone try and consume anything more. Eames however had more or less jumped at the choice to splurge on a large feast, and considering it was all on Harvey Walton's cash, nobody had really told him to do otherwise. Arthur had spent the wasted hours away on his laptop, seemingly running through a particularly shady website from Ariadne's point of view. Something to do with CIA or FBI or something along those lines. Yusuf sat beside her, humming whilst finding perfectly decent entertainment flipping through the channels on Eames' television.

Oddly, she used that time and began thinking of Cobb. Hoping everything was alright in his world. Going back to his children after years of abandonment couldn't have been easy. What might he be doing now? Did he talk to Arthur after the job? Thank him? There was something Ariadne felt, a little like admiration for the man, and his two children. For the fact that they were a small family, without a mother or a wife, just reunited after years of forced seperation was both upsetting and frightening at the same time. It would have been far from easy.

But she had seen it during her working time with him. Always that slight glimmer of hope that the job would be sucessful. The pushing determination. In her opinion, those people, the ones that carried the hope and the push with them, even through the hardest times would always be able to find the happiness that they were searching for to begin with. Those things, the things that are the most important, they never go away.

It was around half past two that Arthur's phone rang. Suffice to say, they all sat up and locked their eyes towards the device, as Arthur opened it and brought it to his ear.

His face was a blank portrait as he spoke into the phone. "Yes?...Yes...Alright...Thank you." As he clicked off and turned towards the others, Ariadne bit her lower lip, her heart beginning to pound quicker inside her chest. "It's time. He just checked into his hotel."

She leaned forward, trying to ignore the way her skin crawled at the statement. "How do you know?"

He was already out of his seat, Yusuf and Eames in tow, slipping his jacket on while the others grabbed the necessary things. "I tipped off an employee." His voice was breezy, quick, reminding her that time was of the essence in order for everything to work perfectly. "Yusuf, pack up the PASIV. Bring what you need."

Ariadne found herself rooted to her seat, not sure what she was beginning to feel. Fear? Panic? Excitement? Either way, it was enough to shut her up as she watched the others move around her. This was it. Everything they had prepared for, ready to go under and extract the information necessary. She suddenly found her mind throwing accusations at her.

_You've never done an extraction before. _

_This isn't going to work._

_You should have said no._

She barely had time to even think about acting out, or saying something, as she felt a light hand gently pull on her arm. She looked up, and saw Eames' gentle face above her, urging her out. "

"Come on, Ariadne," he whispered softly, just loud enough for her, and her alone to hear.


	26. Chapter 26

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are just absolute sweethearts. Please enjoy this!**

* * *

There was something very odd about the particular type of fear that Ariadne was feeling. It wasn't a fear of the unknown, because she knew perfectly well what she had got herself into from day one. No, it was more a fear of the aftermath that was coming her way. It promised nothing but lonliness, stress and no doubt a repeat of the panic that once struck her from after her first job. As she sat in the backseat of the cab, transporting her to the hotel in which Andrew Walton was no doubt in at that very moment, a sickening, twisting feeling formed in her stomach. It was stupid really, considering she had managed to save a man and help complete inception, the hardest action possible in the world of dream sharing. But still, as a perfectionist, and as really, still a _kid_, she couldn't hide that creeping doubt that was growing at the back of her mind. How badly she wanted to pull it together. She wanted to prove to Arthur and to herself that she could finish this with grace, and perhaps a little dignity.

As she arrived, she took a moment. Deep breaths errupting from her chest as she tried to calm herself. There was no going back now. She needed to do what had to be done. She paid the driver, slipped out, and wandered into the hotel, taking note of the more creatively-pleasing apperances of the place. To distract herself if nothing else. After a few minutes of staring aimlessly, she walked over and sat on a particularly comfortable couch near the reception area, deciding that it was the best place to wait for her oncoming teammates. She checked her watch: _5:32. _Arthur had said that they would begin at 6:30.

She tried to distract herself of the oncoming wave of nerves by watching the people who occupied the lobby.

Soon, she watched as the large doors opened, Eames sauntering through the entrance and giving the environment a quick go-over. She wanted to call him over, talk to him. But that would not only be stupid, but embarrassing. Attention was the one thing that they could not afford to have now. So she leaned back into her seat and watched with avid curiosity as the Forger waltzed over to the reception and greeted the lady behind the desk. Ariadne watched in fascination. She hoped, that on the occasion that she was in conversation with an attractive man (which seemed to be quite often these days) that she was nowhere near as obvious as the receptionist as she talked to Eames. A large, overly-keen smile was plastered on her face as she fluttered her no doubt fake eyelashes at the Brit. Eames however, seemed to enjoy the attention, and leaned against the side in a somewhat leering manner.

"Come on, Eames," Ariadne mumbled to herself, somewhat annoyed. "Remember what we're here to do."

Sure enough, a key was pushed across the reception desk towards Eames, who smiled and thanked her, before turning and walking to the staircase. Seeing her cue, Ariadne rose from her seat and began to follow him, quickly moving to keep pace.

She chose the stairs, all to avoid the cramped elevator. But after jogging up several flights (she had lost count), she began to regret her decision. But she knew where she was going. Top floor. Where there were the least rooms, meaning, less people. Her legs ached when she reached the top, and she had to lean against the wall to catch her breath. Breathing in and out repeatedly, calming herself at the same time.

After a few minutes, the elevator doors rung open, and Ariadne was pleased to see Arthur stepping out. They caught eyes for a moment, but she knew better than to do something stupid now, so she let her head fall and continued to lean against the wall, until she heard his footsteps subside, and the sound of a door shutting echoed into the hallway. She would wait.

She hoped more than anything that this would go well. She hoped that everything would work. She hoped that they would be okay.

"Ariadne?"

Looking up, she saw Yusuf's friendly face giving her a gentle smile. Where the hell had he come from? "Shall we go in?"

Ariadne looked around them, before nodding quietly, and following him toward the door. As they walked in, she noticed Arthur and Eames both standing over the regulation coffee table, eyes roaming what looked like a list. As Yusuf slipped away with the PASIV, she dragged herself over, wanting a closer look. She stood over the table, pondering the list before realising that it was a page of a hotel check-in book. She would have thought it a copy, if not for the obvious rip marks along the side. She then realised that Eames, in his dramatic flirting with the receptionist, had actually had an alternative objective. God, he had done it well. She really hadn't even noticed, and in that sense, she couldn't help but be impressed.

"Room 73A," she heard Arthur mumble, hovering his finger over the page. "That's where Walton is."

"When do you want to do this?" Eames asked.

"6:30. Any later, and we risk missing him. No doubt he's planning on leaving his room later for the nightlife."

"Ariadne, are you ready, pet?"

Ariadne gave a small nod. "Yep." Of course she was ready. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was completely ready. There was no time for turning back at this point.

Eames gave her a nod of approval. "Good. You know what the plan is, right?"

"Go in, find a way to slip him the sedative."

"Good girl." His wrist turned over as he checked his watch. "About 10 minutes will do."

"Okay." Ariadne turned and made her way towards the couch, where she let herself collapse with a heavy sigh. It was strange; she had been expecting freedom after her graduation, but she had found herself feeling more trapped than ever. She knew that she should feel excited, just as she was on the first job. But all she felt was that tinge of fear that still spun in her stomach like a web, twisting and twisting, becoming more knotted and unbearable as the moments passed. She knew it was only a matter of time before it would be over. Then she would never have to do it again. That's what she wanted.

Or at least, what she _hoped_ she wanted. Somehow the infatuation that seemed to come with dream-sharing didn't appear to be an optional choice.

But then again, she had to admit, there really truly was nothing like it. The design process was one that she had yearned for ever since she became interested in architecture. Really, she loved it, but nothing compared to the idea of creating pardoxial structures and impossible shapes that somehow were able to _exist. _Even if it wasn't real, there was still nothing quite like it. Reality can only go so far. She had only just discovered however, that reality seems to be enough for those who chose to accept it. The limitations only become a problem when you realise that such things were possible in some other world.

She felt silly, over-thinking it this much. But still, the idea that no less than a year ago, her biggest worry was about paying the rent on time was really quite amusing. She would have never guessed that somehow she (the most average person she'd ever known) had practically changed the world. Well, the buisness part of it at least.

And the more she thought about it, the more she started to consider that it was actually a guessed that hardly any others knew about the concepts of extraction and inception. It was a secret. Something very special that few people ever came into contact with. And in that sense, she was just about the luckiest Architect of them all.

"Ariadne." A gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up and saw Arthur waiting above her with expectant eyes. "You're on."

"Oh." She sighed gently as she sat up again, rolling her head. The muscles in her neck suddenly felt unbearably tense.

Arthur leaned down, kneeling on the ground, his palm open towards her. Inside, was a tiny glass vial, containing some powder-like substance. "Room 73A. This is all you'll need."

She reached out and gently took it from him, admiring it in her hand for a few seconds before looking back towards him. "What if I can't get it to him?"

A corner of Arthur's lips turned up. It was a reassuring gesture to her. "You will. No hurry."

She closed her hand over it, careful not to squeeze too tight. The tiny thing looked so delicate that it just might break under the slightest pressure. "How will you know?"

He rose from the ground, running his hands over the fabric of his suit jacket, dusting off the invisible imperfections. "As soon as you've gone in, I'll be right outside."

"Break a leg, love," she heard Eames call from the other side of the room. "Not literally, of course."

"Thanks," she breathed in return. Looking up, she caught Arthur's eyes. It was something she would never understand, but it was strangely calming to see his dark gaze staring back. She inhaled, and puffed out a large breath of air, before offering him a small smile. "Here I go."

Brushing past the Point Man, she continued to smile at Yusuf and Eames as she moved to the door and slipped out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her. After remembering to take another deep breath, Ariadne stepped back and began walking. She made her way towards the elevator and found herself incredibly thankful that there was nobody else to share the ride with. She pressed the floor number and began her descent. In her aimless thinking, she found her fingers wondering automatically to her pale scarf, twisting the fabric between them. A nervous habit.

The ride seemed to only take a few seconds, before the doors were being pulled open by an invisible force and revealed the floor. Instantly, she stepped out. If she ran now, would the others even notice?

No, she couldn't. Not now, not this close.

Her body seemed to be moving on an entirely different clockwork to her mind, as her legs moved from under her, dragging her to the desired room. Reminded suddenly, Ariadne quickly tucked the tiny vial under her sleeve. _That _would have been embarrassing.

Just moments later, she found it. The large door, with gold-plated numbers **73A **staring down on her. Remembering to take one last deep breath, the young Architect reached forward, and knocked several times on the hard wood.

Silence hung through the hallway as she waited for a response with anticipation. Her heart-rate seemed to be pounding inside her chest. A flash of panic ran through her veins. This was a mistake. Why had she offered herself up like this? What if she failed and ruined the job for all of them?

She just managed to shut herself up as the door clicked open and swung widely, revealing the figure on the other side.

Andrew Walton was exactly, completely, and utterly the same man as she had pictured him to be. That and more.


	27. Chapter 27

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INCEPTION.**

**Hello again! I really cannot apologise enough for the massive break in writing. I have the worst writer's block ever, and I had a shit-ton of exams, but that's over for now, so hopefully some more stuff will be being produced for this story. But you must forgive me if it isn't a weekly update like it used to be. **

**But alas, on another note, here is the latest chapter! And as always, your reviews are amazing, and they mean so much to me. Thank you very much, and please, do not be afraid to comment if you have a moment!**

* * *

Ariadne remembered how she spent her childhood listening to music and engaging in the fanbases of her favourite singers and bands. She even went to her fair share of concerts and meet-and-greets in her teen years. But really, it's one thing, seeing those people in magazines and photos, looking flawless and almost alien in their perfection. Somehow, seeing them in person always, _always _ruined the illusion. Everyone had imperfections, and almost everyone made misjudgements about their idols. Nothing could ever be captured that turned out to be true in reality. There was always some distinction between what's on paper, and what you see with your own eyes. Even during the Fischer job, seeing Robert Fischer on that plane, she saw an almost childlike innocence about him. A dazed and thoughful personality that she wouldn't have ever guess existed from the cold exterior she saw in the photographs.

This time, however, all those things seemed entirely untrue.

Andrew Walton was exactly the same as how she had seen him in the pictures. His tall, lean frame was convered by a fitted suit, his dusty blonde hair neatly cut. He looked like the typical smooth-talking buisnessman. She might have even found him attractive, had it not been for his eyes. The light brown eyes that were sharp and hard, and felt as if they were cutting through her. They were, for lack of a better word...cold. There was a certain sense of nothing as she looked at him.

Hand lingering on the doorframe, he raised an eyebrow, watching and waiting with an expression that was border-line condesending.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice tinted with a slight impatience.

She almost forgot what she was there for. Finding herself completely bewildered with the presence of the Mark, her mind clicked back on, reminding her of the plan that was now in action. Tilting her head slightly, she gave him a small, angelic smile. "Hi. Um, I appear to have locked myself out of my room. May I use your phone?"

She never realised how sugar-coated she sounded until she began speaking. It sounded too fake and unnatural to her ears. Although, she thought it was a good start to a no-doubt interesting performance.

Instead of letting her in right away, he leaned against the frame, scrutinising eyes watching over her. "How did you manage that?"

Ariadne hadn't actually planned a performance piece, and the sudden promise of endless questions made her nervous. She hadn't thought about the facts behind her little lie. But of course, improvisation was always a possibility. She rolled her eyes and smiled sweetly. "My friend must have taken the key by accident. She won't be back until later."

"Why don't you just go down to reception?"

Ariadne paused, before raking her mind for a suitable lie. "Already have. They don't have any spares."

There was a moment of shared silence between the two, and she watched as the older man silently deliberated with himself. Eventually, his shoulders fell, before stepping aside and gesturing through the door.

"Then I guess you'll have to come in," he said, somewhat defeated.

"Thanks." She practically skipped into the room, overjoyed with the sucess of her entrance. She wondered in, and let her eyes run around the brightly lit room, the expensive looking gold lacing around the wallpaper, the large, plush couches and looked like you could sink in and never be found again. Part of her couldn't help but be envious of the creatively pleasing architecture of the room.

She knew she had to make conversation with him. Make him comfortable with her presence if she was somehow going to slip him the sedative undetected.

"Wow. Makes me wish I'd splurged on a suite."

"It's nice. Shame that I'm not in it half the time."

Ariadne waltzed over to the window, gazing quickly down at the lit streets blow, trying to seem as if she could care less about his personal life. "Why not?"

"Meetings and such."

She turned then, and began watching him as he stood over his desk, his face scrunched into a tight frown as his hand ran over the papers.

"Oh, what is it you do?"

"I own a company. My father's company to be more exact."

She shrugged. "Good gig."

"Yep." His voice was slow, monotoneous even. He clearly had no interest in her conversation as he pointed half-heartedly to the other side of the room. "Phone's over there."

Her heart sank. Not only was he pushing her away, but she was slowly losing control of the situation. Like sand slipping through her fingers, she could almost feel the plan falling apart. She needed to keep trying, but her knocked confidence and lack of imagination in the panic she was feeling only helped her come up with a generic phrase to stutter.

"I'm Ariadne."

Without looking up, the Mark replied as an uninterested mumble. "Andrew."

The converstation came to another dead end. Shifting from foot to foot for a few seconds, Ariadne began to think that it was possibly time to consider giving up. This was clearly going nowhere, and as predicted, she had failed her one simple task. She would have to walk out, unsucessful, and inform Arthur and the others of her miserable failure, and allowing them to handle the situation in a more forceful way. The humiliation she felt at the realisation was almost overwhelming.

"What are you doing in New York?"

She looked up, a sudden joy filling her. He was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"Sight-seeing. All the tourist attractions."

"How are you finding it so far?"

"Amazing," she gushed. "It's a great city."

"That it is."

As another painful silence fell over them, Ariadne felt her mind shutting down. It was time to give up. Nothing was working with this man.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Well...I'll just use the phone then." She turned, and began walking away, until she heard Andrew call from behind her.

"Hey, you want a drink?"

She swung around again, trying to hide the joy in her face. "That would be great," she smiled. Seeing that he began to move towards the mini-fridge, she swept forward, waving her hand. "Don't get up. Let me."

She moved towards the mini-bar and grabbed a bottle of champange. Of course, she thought, they always had champange to spare in places like this. Collecting two glasses, she came back and placed them on the desk. As she opened the bottle, she heard Andrew beside her.

"So how old are you anyway, 18?"

She frowned to herself. "I'm 22," she replied, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"No shit."

She nodded as she poured the drink into the glasses. Watching him through her eyelashes, she saw him turn to remove the papers on the desk. Seeing her chance, she reached into her sleeve, poured the powder-like content into the glass and shoved it back into the pocket of her jeans, all with impressive timing. "I graduated school a few weeks ago."

She pushed the glass into his hands. He smiled."Thanks. Cheers," he said, raising his glass. She did the same, and took a small sip as he swallowed a mouthful. As he brought the glass back down, he shook his head. "Good thing, too. School doesn't teach you anything worth remembering. That stuff comes with experience."

Folding an arm across her chest, Ariadne gave him the smallest of smirks. "Well, if anyone knows that, it must be you."

He nodded. "I didn't even finish high school, and I turned out..." He paused. His eyes flickered to the floor for a moment. "Um...I turned out..."

Ariadne was surprised. The effects of the sedative were quicker than she thought. "Are you okay?"

Andrew nodded, but his face remained crinkled into a frown. "Yeah...I'm just..." He wavered slightly on his feet. "Just..."

Seconds later, the glass slipped from his hands and landed on the floor, the delicate structure smashing into tiny pieces. Andrew wasn't short to follow, swaying slightly, before falling back and hitting the ground with a thud.

Ariadne sighed in heavy relief as she placed her drink down, before moving swiftly toward the door, and yanking it open. As soon as she turned the handle, Arthur, followed by the others, swept in. They entered the room quickly, Yusuf moving directly to the bedroom to set up the PASIV. Arthur and Eames moved towards the sleeping figure, Eames grabbing his legs, and Arthur, his shoulders. The Point Man's eyes flickered from the unconcious body to Ariadne.

"You alright?" he asked, lifting the body.

Ariadne nodded, and exhaled a large puff of air. "Yeah."

"Very nicely done, Ariadne," Eames grinned, helping Arthur drag him towards the bed. "He's out like a light."

The Architect followed, watching as they gently swung his body onto the mattress. "Thanks."

Arthur began rolling up Andrew's sleeve, exposing his wrist. He held his hand out towards the Forger. "Eames."

Eames handed him a wire from the machine, and Ariadne watched as he artfully slid the needle into his skin, before letting his arm drop gently beside him. He then turned to the PASIV. Eames sat on the ground, against the mattress, rolling up his own sleeve.

"Yusuf, remember to give us an hour. No longer. That should be enough time," he reminded the Chemist, before slipping the needle into his own wrist.

Arthur appeared at her side, a wire in his hand. He gently guided her toward a chair, and allowed her to sit before grasping her wrist between his nimble fingers and pushing it into her pale skin. She only hoped that he couldn't hear the fast pace of her pulse underneath his touch. There was hardly any time to be nervous.

"Yusuf, lock the door."

Ariadne watched Arthur ready himself on the floor. Yusuf sat opposite Eames, hand hovering over the PASIV. "Ready?"

A silent confirmation was exchanged between the teammates. As his hand pressed down on the machine, the familiar hissing echoed the room. Ariadne sank lower into her chair, before hearing the Forger's voice.

"Good luck, lads."

Nobody responded as the darkness took over them once more.


End file.
